Hints on the Wind
by xenu1275
Summary: Shikamaru is called to Suna to get to the bottom of a puzzling, and potentially deadly, mystery. Shikamaru X Temari. Please review!
1. Involuntary Recruitment

Yet again he encountered her at the worst possible moment, in the thick of a situation that left him looking foolish and incompetent. Given a choice he would have much preferred to receive advance warning of her arrival, enough time to arrange things so that she might find him somewhere where his particular talents shined brightest – in the midst of a strategy meeting, or at a game of _shogi_. Of course it would have taken a certain amount of effort to engineer the encounter in this way, something that would have raised the suspicions of anyone who knew him, but Shikamaru was adept at laying elaborate plans without appearing to do anything at all.

This time, of course, he didn't get the chance. When Temari of the Sand found him he was lying in a dirty gutter, covered in mud from the morning's rain and decisively squashed beneath the bulk of his best friend and teammate, Choji Akimichi.

"Well," she said, in a voice as dark and rich as the afternoon sunlight, "I was told I might find you with your teammate, but nobody told me to look _underneath_ him."

Shikamaru couldn't see her from his position on the ground, but there was no mistaking her voice, colored as always by amusement and a little scorn. Or maybe she only sounded like that when talking to him. He groaned and began to push ineffectually at Choji. "Get off me, Choji. Sounds like that troublesome woman from the Sand is here again."

Choji shifted his weight and stood ponderously to his feet. He turned and folded his arms, scowling down at his teammate.

"They're gone," said Choji. "I'll never catch them now, because of you."

Shikamaru was taking deep breaths, hoping those pains in his chest were not from broken ribs. He made no move to get out of the gutter. "If you did catch them, what were you planning on doing? Would you really use your expansion against little _genin_ like that?"

Choji snorted. "Would serve them right," he said stubbornly. "Someone has to teach them not to insult their superiors." He unfolded his arms and offered Shikamaru a hand up.

Shikamaru took it, wincing as various bruises made their presence known. Temari, tall and broad-shouldered with her blond hair tied up in four pigtails, was standing behind and to the left of Choji, watching it all with that smirk he knew so well.

"What did they say to him?" she demanded.

Choji's eyes narrowed. Leave it to her to ask the most dangerous question possible.

"Nothing important," said Shikamaru dismissively. "Just kid stuff. Choji overreacted, and I stopped him with my shadow possession."

"Then how did you end up on the ground?"

He shrugged. "Choji's got a lot of chakra, especially when he's worked up. I lost control for a second, then overcompensated and yanked him over backwards."

"I see," she replied, still smirking. Then her green eyes narrowed fractionally, glinted with mischief. "Could it be that they said he was f—"

"What is it that you wanted?" Shikamaru cut her off, casting a nervous glance over at Choji, whose color had suddenly drained and whose eyes were bulging. He did _not_ want to have to restrain his teammate again. "You must have come here for a reason."

She pinned him with a knowing look, his evasion not lost on her. "Well," she said after a moment, "I came looking for you. You're to come back to Suna with me, to assist us with a matter there. Here are your Hokage's orders." She extended her arm to hand him a small scroll, tightly wrapped and stamped with the Hokage's seal.

He broke the seal with his thumbnail and unrolled the scroll. There were only a few lines written there, which he scanned and immediately committed to memory.

"This doesn't say what you want me for," he said, looking up at her from the paper. "It also doesn't say when we're supposed to leave or how long I'll be gone."

She shrugged, the giant iron fan strapped to her back shifting up and down with her shoulders. "The nature of the mission will have to wait until we're on our way – it's sensitive. We'll depart as soon as you can get your gear together, and you'll be in Suna indefinitely – as long as it takes to finish the job."

It sounded like a pain. "It sounds like a pain," he said.

"Isn't that what you say about _everything_?"

"That's because everything _is_ a pain. Who else is coming with us?"

"No one else. It'll be just you and me going to Suna."

Choji made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a strangled snicker. His own humiliation now quite forgotten, he raised his eyebrows and rocked back on his heels. "Sounds like fun, Shikamaru! I can't wait to hear about it when you get back – everyone will be interested in your trip to Suna. Have a good time!" He waved jovially and started down the street, and as he looked after his friend Shikamaru could swear he saw Choji's shoulders shaking slightly, as though he was laughing.

So much for loyalty. Friends were supposed to protect each other's weak spots, the way Shikamaru did with Choji's weight, yet Choji had abandoned him to face his biggest weak spot of all – Temari.

But the orders were authentic, and could not be avoided. "I'll meet you at the west gate in an hour," he told her, striving for a sort of curt professionalism. "That should give me enough time to make arrangements and gather my gear."

"An hour it is, then," she said agreeably, then turned on her heel and departed in the same direction as Choji.

Shikamaru waited a moment before ambling away from the gutter. He was going to take the long way home. In truth he could have been ready to leave in just fifteen minutes, but he intended to delay as long as possible. She might be able to make him come to Suna, but he'd be damned if she'd make him hurry.


	2. Closer to Home

By the time they departed, the swollen orange sun had sunk low enough in the sky to be partially obscured behind forested hills. The western horizon was crowned with fire; long black shadows extended out from the trees like streaks of night. Temari was leaned against the stout wooden frame of the gate, arms folded and eyes closed. She might have been asleep except for the way the fingers of her left hand drummed against her right bicep. She was merely waiting, struggling to master her impatience.

Shikamaru took all this in at a glance, and guessed that his escort had been here since shortly after she left him, hoping that he might turn up early and hasten their departure. If so she had been disappointed.

"Took you long enough," she said, opening her eyes at the sound of his approach. "When you said an hour, I thought you were just giving yourself some leeway to avoid being late. No one really takes that long to grab their gear."

He shrugged. "I always say exactly what I mean. And Suna is three days away – a journey like that requires supplies."

She snorted and looked skeptically at the slim backpack that was his only baggage other than his _shuriken_ holster. "Yes, I can see you've come prepared," she replied drily. "Anyway, you're here now, so let's go." Her eyes shifted from him to the west, and in the next second she was gone, leaving a dust trail in her wake as she sprinted up the road away from the village.

Shikamaru stood looking after her for a moment. This was Temari's idea of revenge, no doubt, for being made to wait. "What a pain," he commented to no one in particular, then followed her.

Once Konoha had shrunk out of sight Temari left the road, darting sideways into the woods, bearing southwest. He did likewise, though he had not yet caught up to her and was mildly concerned about losing sight of her among the trees. The same thought seemed to have occurred to her, for he found her waiting for him on the branch of an oak, slouched into a posture of studied casualness.

"Sorry," she said when he reached her. "I thought you'd be a little faster than that. My mistake." She was smirking again, of course.

Shikamaru didn't answer right away, just continued his progress through the trees, each leap enhanced by chakra channeled to his legs and feet. The sprint followed immediately by this chakra-aided locomotion had his heart pounding and his breath coming in shallow gasps, and it took everything he had to hide his discomfort. Endurance was not one of his strengths, though it seemed to be one of hers.

"Why are we in such a hurry?" he asked when he could trust his voice to sound relatively unlabored. "Is it an emergency?"

"Sort of. The Kazekage wants this issue taken care of quickly, but there's no specific deadline. I just wanted to make a good start on the journey before sundown."

As if to prove her determination, she increased the pace slightly.

He hastened to keep up. "Can you tell me more about the mission now?"

Her brow furrowed slightly. "I suppose so, now that we're away from the Leaf." She tensed, then pushed off and landed on the next branch with the sound of crumbling bark. "We asked for you because something is robbing Suna of its jutsu."

He landed next to her, shot her a sideways glance before the next leap. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that four Sand-nin have, for reasons that remain mysterious to us, suddenly lost the ability to manipulate chakra and perform their normal jutsu."

"But that sounds like a medical problem. I have no medical knowledge – you'd be better off taking Sakura."

She scowled. "We have our own medics. They've examined the ninja in question and found nothing – no injuries, no difference in chakra flow, no physical parameter less than optimal. They assure us that no medic in the world has a chance of fixing the problem without having some idea of the cause."

"And that's what you want me for – to determine the cause? Still sounds like it's outside my area of expertise."

"I know you like to give up, but I thought you'd wait until _after_ you've tried at least once." Her voice had acquired an edge. "We don't expect you to perform any medical examinations. But each of the four victims lost their jutsu at a different time, on completely different days. I'm convinced that there must be something they all did, something they all touched or ate or drank, that can account for this. I've spent hours searching for a commonality, without success. We need someone who's good at seeing things everyone else misses, someone who notices details." She stopped short of saying that the only ninja who fit the bill was Shikamaru, but the implication was clear.

"So you'll want me to conduct some kind of investigation into the activities of the victims before they were affected, and find the common link?" It actually _did_ sound like something he was suited for. In spite of himself he was interested.

"Exactly. I've already gathered most of the data you'll need, so I thought you could start by examining that. I'll help you to acquire any additional information you require. My other duties are on hold until this is resolved."

He was silent a while. "There are two possibilities," he said eventually. She looked over at him curiously. "One is that this is an illness brought on by disease or contact with a toxic substance. In other words, an accident. The other possibility is that it's an attack."

She shook her head. "I thought of that. But none of the victims remembers being attacked by anyone. Two of them were in the village for weeks before they were affected, out of reach of any enemy. And wouldn't the enemy target _jounin_ first, to try to weaken us as much as possible? Only one of the victims is a _jounin_. The other three are a _genin_ and two _chuunin_."

He thought some more. "The fact that the victims don't remember anything is insignificant if we assume the enemy is operating in stealth and has spies in the Sand. The _genin_, or even the _chuunin_, could have just been test subjects to see if the attack would succeed. Or maybe they somehow posed a threat to the attackers without realizing it, or maybe they were all just in the wrong place at the wrong time. It could even be that they are all acquainted with one or more of the attackers."

"That's a lot of maybes." She did not seem impressed by his reasoning.

"It is," he agreed. "I won't be able to be more certain until I see the data. But our job just got a lot bigger. If it _is_ an attack instead of an accident, it won't be enough to look over the victims' recent history. We'll have to examine their whole lives – their jutsu, their family, their acquaintances, everything. Determining who's attacking the Sand and how they're doing it could be a major pain."

"I suppose you don't like that idea." As they discussed the possibility of an enemy plot, Temari's hands had curled into fists.

"Of course I don't," replied Shikamaru. "Who likes a lot of tedious work? But what I like even less"—his voice hardened –"is the idea of someone perfecting their jutsu-stealing technique against the Sand and then using it on the Leaf. It could be there's a lot more at stake here than the careers of four shinobi. It's not just for your village that I need to resolve this – it's for mine too."

So saying, he intensified the chakra coursing through his legs, resulting in a sudden burst of speed. This time it was Temari who was left to catch up, and to wonder at the new resolve evidenced by the laziest man in the Leaf.

***

Two days of hard travel brought them at last to the desert. They camped on the leeward side of a high dune at nightfall, intending to embark on the final half-day leg of the journey in the morning. Shikamaru was feeling the effects of his uncharacteristic effort – his legs ached and his chakra was nearly gone. Additionally there were small but persistent pains in his back from his encounter with Choji. On the whole he felt tired and sore, in no condition to accomplish any brilliant feats of deduction.

But Temari seemed not to share his exhaustion; the return to her native desert had energized her, as if she drew strength from the shifting sands beneath their feet. She sat cross-legged and straight-backed in front of their small fire, taking deep breaths of the dry air. "So have you come to any more conclusions?" she asked him in an even, almost pleasant tone.

"Not really. I need more information." She had spent much of the trip filling him in on the details of the situation, and in particular on the four ninja who had lost their jutsu. Shikamaru had been surprised to discover that he was familiar with two of them: Matsuri, a _chuunin_ and Gaara's former student, and Baki, the _jounin_ who had first instructed the sand siblings.

"I see," she replied. He half-expected some wry comment about his intelligence not meeting expectations, but she said nothing more. In the back of his mind, Shikamaru admitted that he was a little disappointed.

Night had fallen on the desert like the dousing of a light, and in the absence of trees and animals the dark itself was oddly substantive, nearly tangible. Other than the crackling of the flames the only noise was the howling of the wind as it raced over the dunes, reshaping the landscape with each gust. Over it all was an impossibly broad sky, unobstructed by foliage and unpolluted by city lights, heavy with the weight of so many stars. Of course, there were no clouds.

It was alien and harshly beautiful, and it evoked in Shikamaru feelings of discomfort and admiration that mirrored his customary reaction to the kunoichi beside him.

"How have the victims reacted to the loss of their jutsu?" he asked her, to fill the silence.

She shrugged. "About like you'd expect – mostly with frustration. Matsuri barely managed to stop crying long enough to beg the medics not to tell Gaara – she was so afraid he would be disappointed in her. And Baki-sensei …" She trailed off, frowning.

"Of course, he was your teacher, it must be difficult for you to see him like that."

She nodded once, a curt acknowledgement of his sympathy. "I've heard you know something about that yourself." Her eyes met his, and he saw both curiosity and caution there.

He bowed his head slightly, looked away. "Yeah, that's right. Asuma-sensei was killed by Akatsuki. But I didn't know you'd heard about it in Suna."

"We did. We also heard about the way you took revenge against his killers. You deciphered the enemy's jutsu and took down two immortals. Gaara was impressed; that and your performance at the _chuunin_ exam years ago are what made him think of you for this assignment."

So it was the Kazekage himself who had requested his presence. Shikamaru filed that away for future reference, unsure how he felt about it. "It wasn't all me," he said to Temari. "I had a lot of help."

She folded her arms and made a derisive noise in the back of her throat. "I hate modesty," she said crossly. "It was your plan. Your kill. Nothing is gained by pretending otherwise."

"Well, we're gonna have to agree to disagree on that one. I believe in being totally honest about what you can do, and not pretending to be more than you are. It's like _shogi_ – knowing exactly how each piece can move allows the player to use it with maximum effectiveness."

"Life isn't exactly like _shogi_, you know. Especially for a ninja. There has to be room for bluffing, and luck."

Damn, she had a point. But Shikamaru was not about to admit it. "Thinking of people like _shogi_ pieces has helped me in a lot of battles," he said to her. "It's what let us succeed against Akatsuki. But even then, revenge was the best I could do for my teacher." He paused. "I mean to do more for yours."

She closed her eyes, and when she opened them again, there was a softness on her face he had never seen before.

"Thank you," she said.

***

Long before they reached it they could see Suna in the distance, its walls the remnants of a natural mesa whose interior had been hollowed out to make room for the village. Shikamaru only realized it was more than a regular mesa when Temari pointed out the entrance, a narrow cleft in the rock whose sides were too smooth to have been made by natural processes. They reached the mesa and passed into the village without difficulty, for all of the wall's guards recognized Temari, the Kazekage's sister.

Beyond the cleft they stood on the doorstep of Suna, which reminded Shikamaru of nothing so much as a termite colony. In contrast to Konoha's riot of bright color, the buildings were all the tan hue of sand. They were tall and narrow, tapering cylinders topped by domed roofs, and from a distance the people moving through the streets resembled scurrying insects.

"Isn't it beautiful?" asked Temari. She was beaming as she beheld her home.

"How should I know?" answered Shikamaru. "I've never had an eye for that sort of thing. It's certainly big." He decided it would be unwise to ask her if the city's design was inspired by termites.

She scowled and muttered something, and began stalking off into town without turning to see if he was following. They drew some curious looks as they moved through the streets, from people who noticed the Leaf symbol on his sleeve. More than a few people lifted their hands to greet Temari, which she acknowledged with a tiny nod. Shikamaru couldn't help but notice that they seemed intimidated by her. He wasn't really surprised.

They arrived at a tall building at the center of town, emblazoned with the character for "wind." No doubt Gaara's office was inside. They entered and followed a winding staircase upward, around and around until Shikamaru's head was spinning, his leg muscles burning.

Temari noticed his discomfort and snickered. "You could use some more conditioning," she said.

He didn't dignify the comment with a response.

On the topmost floor was a pair of wide double doors, again marked with the symbol for wind. Temari didn't knock, just pushed them roughly open and stepped into her brother's office.

Gaara of the Desert sat behind a desk, working through a stack of paperwork. He looked up when they came in, then set aside the document he was reading.

"Temari," he greeted her. "You're back early."

"We hurried. I've brought Shikamaru Nara and briefed him on the situation."

Gaara's eyes, icy blue and ringed in black, flicked toward the Leaf-nin. Shikamaru felt a little uncomfortable, for he could not forget the terrible power of this person, nor the murderous tendencies he'd displayed only a few years before. "You understand what we want from you?" the Kazekage asked him.

"Yes, I think so."

"And you think you can do it?"

"There's no guarantee, but it sounds like the kind of thing I'm good at. I'll do my best."

Gaara continued to regard him coolly. "I hope that's enough. In Temari's absence the situation has worsened."

Temari's eyes widened. "What do you mean?" she demanded.

Gaara turned to her, and though his calm expression didn't change, Shikamaru thought he seemed troubled. "There's been a new victim," he told them. "Kankuro."


	3. Shades of Revenge

If standardization could be found anywhere in the shinobi world, Shikamaru had thought it would be in the hospitals. The five great ninja nations, and the myriad of smaller countries scattered between them, all had their own origins, traditions, and cultures, but the demands of a hospital were utilitarian – sterility, size, accessibility. Yet Suna's hospital looked nothing like Konoha's. The hallways seemed oddly low and wide, most rooms lacked doors, and instead of cold tile, the walls and floors were made of some grainy reddish-brown substance.

"It's sand," said Gaara when he saw Shikamaru reach out a hand to trail his fingers along the wall. "A special jutsu of this village is used to compress and shape the desert sand, then harden it into permanent structures. Most of our buildings are created that way."

Shikamaru withdrew his hand and looked sideways at the Kazekage, who was walking beside him on their way to Kankuro's room. Temari was a meter or so ahead, leaving them behind in her haste.

"That's clever," said Shikamaru. "In the Leaf we build with wood, but it makes sense to use what you have on hand."

Gaara nodded, his eyes on his sister's back. "Life in the desert is all about making do."

Gaara stood a little shorter than Shikamaru and was far slimmer, so that the massive gourd strapped across his back seemed likely to crush him. He looked like a waif in his voluminous Kazekage robes, a deceptively vulnerable image that belied the truth: Gaara was one of the most dangerous shinobi in the Five Countries. More than that, since ascending to the leadership of his village Gaara had acquired something new, a heavy aura of responsibility. Once his eyes had shone only with malice, but now they were full of duty and purpose. It was a good change, but it didn't make him less intimidating.

They arrived at Kankuro's room and entered through an empty archway – there was no door. Shikamaru was surprised to see that it contained not one bed but six, arranged in two rows of three, and that all but one of the beds was occupied. He would have thought that the Kazekage's brother rated a private room. He said as much.

Gaara explained: "The medics thought it made sense to put all of the ninja who've lost their jutsu together. There are very few private rooms here, anyway. Austerity is an old Wind Country tradition."

No doubt this too came from the harsh realities of life in the desert, where frivolity was a quick way to die. Konoha's own world-view was inherited from the Fire Country, whose lush fertile landscapes were more forgiving of excess.

Temari had arrived before them and was already on the other side of the room, standing beside a bed in the far corner. Sitting up in the bed with his legs dangling over the side was a brown-haired, lanky man Shikamaru did not recognize.

"Where's Kankuro?" he asked.

Gaara made a noise in the back of his throat. "That _is_ Kankuro, next to Temari."

Shikamaru stopped dead in his tracks, mouth open slightly. Of course he'd known that Kankuro didn't really have purple stripes and an angular black head, but he was unprepared for how _normal_ the _jounin_ looked without his customary puppeteer costume.

"Hey you, Leaf-nin, stop staring at me," said Kankuro. "I don't need my puppets to make you sorry." He was looking at Shikamaru with barely disguised rancor, scowling deeply.

"Kankuro, this man came to help us. He is an ally. Don't threaten him." Gaara's arms were folded, his voice calm, yet his tone brooked no argument.

Kankuro looked briefly at his younger brother, then down at the floor. "Sorry," he said flatly. "I just don't like being seen without my costume."

"It's not a pleasant experience for me, either," said Shikamaru, causing Kankuro's face to darken even more. "That's why I'll do my best to restore you to it before too long." He'd guessed that a little tactless humor would be more effective than sympathy for a proud man like this.

After a moment Kankuro grinned. "If you're as smart as everyone says you are, you'll put some distance between us first, Leaf-nin."

Temari broke into their exchange. "There's no reason you can't wear the costume anyway," she pointed out. She was looking intently at her brother, her face taut. She kept moving her arms around and Shikamaru had the impression she was restraining herself from reaching out to touch Kankuro.

Kankuro shook his head. "The costume's for puppeteers. I can't control my puppets, I don't have the right to wear it."

"When did you first notice your jutsu was gone?" Shikamaru figured now was as good a time as any to begin his investigation. He'd intended to save interviews with the victims until after reviewing Temari's data, so that he'd know what questions to ask, but it would have been stupid to waste the current opportunity.

Kankuro sighed. "This morning. I was trying to master a new trick, but my puppet's strings felt dead in my hands – I couldn't channel any chakra into them at all. Then I tried a few simple jutsu – clones, transformation, substitution. None of it worked. That's when I realized I'd been affected by the same thing as Baki-sensei."

"And do you _feel_ any different – any headache or fever, anything like that?"

"No, nothing. I feel completely healthy. The medics have told me I _am _completely healthy, that they can't find anything wrong."

"It's just like the others, then," observed Gaara.

"Seems like it."

"Can you remember any odd occurrences lately?" Shikamaru asked.

"Odd how?"

"I'm not really sure. Food you ate that didn't taste quite right, or an acquaintance acting funny, or somebody watching you – stuff like that."

Kankuro frowned in thought. "No, I don't think so. I've been away on a mission and only got back a couple of days ago. Since then I've mostly been resting, so I haven't seen too many people."

"What was the mission?"

Kankuro's eyes shifted to Gaara's. Gaara nodded slightly, unblinking.

"It was a reconnaissance mission," said Kankuro. "To the Fire Country."

Shikamaru did not react to this news. It was commonplace for the Five Countries to spy on one another, even those that called themselves allies. Friendship and trust could only extend so far.

"Did you encounter any ninja during the mission?" he asked.

"No. It was strictly an intelligence-gathering operation – no combat."

"I see. If you don't mind, I'd like you to write down all your activities for the last couple of weeks. Include as much detail as you can, even down to what you ate for meals and what time you went to sleep. Anything, no matter how insignificant it appears, could turn out to be important."

Kankuro winced. "I can't remember that much detail. What you're asking for would take forever."

"Better get started, then," said Temari. Seemingly from nowhere, she had produced a tablet of paper and a pencil, which she dropped onto her brother's bed. "All the other victims have already done this for me, and it didn't take any of them more than a day or so. _You_ have until tomorrow morning, and I want it to be neat – none of your chicken-scratch handwriting." She seemed a lot more comfortable now that she had switched from sympathy to scolding.

"Temari …" Kankuro began in a dissatisfied tone.

She reached into a pouch at her belt and took out a slim black rod about the length of her forearm. She flicked her wrist and it opened into a fan, exquisitly painted with a sunset view of Suna. Another movement of her wrist sent a small but intense burst of wind out from the fan's folds, to swirl around her helpless brother and pin him back against the wall. He looked down to see that the tablet had been lifted up by the gust and deposited in his lap.

"Do it," Temari said dangerously. "Or I'll show you the new trick _I've _been working on."

"I'd do what she says," Shikamaru advised, looking at the fan Temari still held. He'd never seen it before, and wondered how long she'd been able to wield it. "Troublesome woman like this, it's better not to argue."

"Don't worry, he'll get it done," said a deep voice from behind them. It was Baki, who had risen from his own bed and crossed the room the join them. Behind him, hovering within earshot but apparently too shy to come any closer, were a trio of young people, one of whom Shikamaru recognized as Matsuri. Her eyes kept darting up to Gaara's face then back down to the rough floor.

Baki was a muscular, thickly built man with dark skin and a pair of curved maroon tattoos running across his right cheek. Whether there was a matching pair on the other cheek was anybody's guess, for unlike Kankuro he still wore his usual ninja uniform, including a turban-like wrapping that concealed the whole top of his head and the right half of his face.

"Baki-sensei," said Kankuro, his expression switching from one of rebellion at his sister's threat to respectful deference. Temari's attitude changed too; she stowed her fan in the blink of an eye and stood up a little straighter. Only Gaara did not react, except to shift his gaze over to regard his former teacher impassively.

"Kankuro," said Baki seriously, "the information they've requested could be the key to solving all this and putting us back on duty. The more data they have, the more likely it is they'll find a pattern. Or maybe you like the idea of being a civilian?"

Kankuro grimaced. "Of course not, sensei. I'll get it done on time."

Baki turned to Shikamaru. "Kankuro has never exactly been the studious type," he said. "And for the record, I don't remember anything out of the ordinary either, before I lost my jutsu last week."

Shikamaru nodded. "As I expected," he said. "Whatever – or whomever – is causing this must be extremely subtle, to ensnare two _jounin_." He looked over at the little group of Sand-nin watching their conversation. "Does anybody else remember anything that might be helpful?" he called out to them.

They all shook their heads.

"Who was the first to be affected?"

For a moment no one said anything, and then Gaara answered, "Matsuri." He half-turned to look at her, and as if in response to some silent command she shuffled forward to join them.

"It was me," she said softly. She was hunched away from Gaara; it looked like she was trying to sink into the floor.

"When was that?" asked Shikamaru.

"Three weeks ago. I was on an escort mission and we were attacked. I tried to make a clone to distract the enemy, but I couldn't. I got hit. My teammates rescued me, and when I woke up I was here, in the hospital."

"Three weeks is a long time. Why didn't you ask for help before now?" He directed the question at Gaara.

Gaara blinked, shrugged slightly. "Until another victim turned up we weren't sure anything had happened at all. Most people were of the opinion that Matsuri had simply lost her nerve." He paused. "I knew differently, of course."

Matsuri gave a shuddering gasp and started wiping furiously at her eyes. "You did? Thank you, Gaara-sensei!" Then she was crying too hard to speak anymore.

"Dry up," said Temari in disgust. "You're embarrassing all of us."

Shikamaru couldn't help but agree with her as he averted his eyes from the sobbing _chuunin_. Still, Temari was being rather harsh; the young woman's unhappiness was completely understandable. "What about the other victims?' he asked, to change the subject.

Baki beckoned them forward. "This is Takeo," he said, indicating a tall slim young man who also wore turban-like head wrappings. "He's a _chuunin_ who specializes in wind manipulation. He'd been on guard duty for several months before this happened, so he hadn't left the village in some time. And this" – he gestured at a little boy with unruly brown hair—"is Akio. He's a _genin_, just graduated from our academy, and has never been out of Suna. He's training to be a puppet master like Kankuro."

Shikamaru greeted each young man in turn, but decided against questioning them closely at the moment. No doubt Temari had already gathered a lot of data from them, and in any case he had a more pressing question to ask.

"Kazekage-sama," he said, "have there been any recent threats against your life?"

This got a reaction from Gaara. His black-ringed eyes widened slightly and he said, "Why would you ask that?"

"Because it seems to me that this condition has been awfully selective about the shinobi it affects. Whatever's behind it seems to have a grudge against you."

"Explain that," Temari demanded. "Kankuro may be Gaara's brother, but the other victims aren't related to him at all."

Shikamaru folded his arms and tilted his head slightly to the side. "No, but one is his former teacher and another is his student. If someone was targeting people close to the Kazekage, Baki-sensei and Matsuri would certainly be on the list."

"But what about Takeo and Akio?" asked Baki. "They're not any closer to the Kazekage than any other shinobi of this village."

"No, but I suspect they were both warm-ups. Somebody is deliberately inflicting this condition on Suna's ninja, and they wanted to practice on easier opponents before going after their real targets. Akio was a warm-up for Kankuro, to make certain the jutsu-stealing technique would work against a puppet master. As for Takeo … he uses wind."

Everyone's eyes went from Shikamaru to Temari. She held up her hands. "I feel just fine!" she protested. "And you all just saw me use my jutsu."

"Shikamaru's interpretation makes sense," said Baki. "If he's right, you may be next, Temari."

Gaara was looking at Temari, his face unreadable. "Maybe you should stay here," he said to her. "I can assign someone else to escort our guest."

She scowled. "If I am next, I'd rather be doing something to stop it, not just sitting around here with a bunch of invalids."

"I would also prefer to keep Temari with me," said Shikamaru. "As bait. If my theory is right and they come after her next, then I'll get a chance to observe them in action and find out how they're doing this." He also rather liked the idea of saving her, paying her back for that time he'd gone to rescue Sasuke Uchiha.

Gaara was silent a moment. "Fine," he said at last. "But don't take any unnecessary risks, Temari. Call for help the instant you notice anything unusual. As for your question, Leaf-nin, there are a lot of people who would like to hurt me, both because I am the Kazekage and because of my past. I will compile a list for you by tomorrow morning."

"I'll also need to know the nature of each person's grudge against you," said Shikamaru, feeling he might be pushing his luck.

Gaara's pale forehead wrinkled; if he'd had eyebrows, they would have knit together. "Fine." He paused. "It will be a long list."

Then he turned around and strode out of the room. In the archway he halted and looked at Temari over his shoulder. "Get to work," he ordered. In the next second he was gone.

"You heard Gaara," she said. She seized Shikamaru's sleeve and began to pull him out of the room, waving her free hand carelessly over her head as she called, "Don't worry Kankuro, we'll get to the bottom of this soon!"

Kankuro or one of the others might have responded, something about being careful, but Shikamaru couldn't be sure – he was too busy trying to keep up with Temari and extricate himself from her grip.

"Stop!" he finally said once they were out of the room and halfway down the hall. "I can walk, you know!" He succeeded at last in tugging his sleeve from her hand. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Suna's library," she replied. "The information I gathered is stored in a special room there."

"Fine, I'll want to look at it, but before I do anything else I need to eat."

She fixed him with a sharp appraising gaze. Any moment now, she would say something about his endurance, or lack thereof.

"Of course," she said. "You haven't eaten since we broke camp this morning. I'm hungry myself, and neither of us will work well on an empty stomach."

"That's right. I don't think so well when I'm famished."

She nodded curtly. "Then follow me."

***

She took him to a small restaurant a few blocks away from the hospital. The staff there seemed to know her; they bowed respectfully and addressed her by name. The hostess seated them at a large table in the back, her eyes lingering on the Leaf symbol on Shikamaru's clothing.

"The food here is good," said Temari, "and the service is fast."

"Sounds fine," he answered noncommittally. "I'm so hungry I'd eat anything."

At that, she got a look on her face that he didn't care for at all. She looked _devious_. "You mean that?"

"I guess so."

The waitress had come to take their order, and with a wicked grin Temari said to her, "We'll both have your winter special." The waitress bowed in acknowledgement and left.

"What did you just ask for?"

"You'll see."

When the food came it took all of Shikamaru's self control not to jump out of his chair. Two plates were laid on the table, and on each one was curled a whole snake. They looked perfectly intact, their diamond-shaped scales glistening in the light, their wedge-shaped heads resting peacefully on their coils. He watched his carefully to see if it was breathing.

"It's dead," said Temari with a snicker. "It can't hurt you. It really couldn't anyway – these ones aren't poisonous. During the winter it occasionally becomes cold enough to make the snakes inactive, and they curl up under rocks to wait it out. That's when they're slowest and most vulnerable."

"And that's when you harvest them," said Shikamaru. "The winter special. I get it. What's it taste like?"

She shrugged and began to heap rice onto her plate from a small bowl. "Chicken," she replied.

He poked at the snake with a forefinger. It was still warm from whatever cooking process they had used, and the scales were still shiny and hard. "How are you supposed to …"

She looked up. "Oh, right. Sorry – I'll get it."

She took out her small fan again and opened it, and before he could tell her to stop she had sent a gust across the table to whirl around his dinner. The snake was lifted from the plate and uncurled, and then a seam opened up in its scales, from the corner of its mouth all the way to its pointed tail. Its skin opened along the seam to expose pink meat within, and then the whole thing split cleanly into two long pieces and sank gently back down to the table.

He was impressed, for that kind of control over an unstable element like wind was difficult to come by. It was no wonder she was already a _jounin_. But all he said to her was, "I imagine most people use a knife."

"Takes longer," she said around a mouthful of food. While he'd been watching the disassembling of his snake, she had quickly cut into hers and begun to eat it.

He took up his chopsticks and did the same, picking gingerly at the meat before summoning enough courage to try a morsel. It was tough and chewy, and tasted nothing like chicken. Nevertheless he ate it with gusto, as he really was very hungry and he didn't want to expose himself to more of her taunting.

"You took it well," she said with a satisfied grin. "I was expecting you to ask for something more . . . comfortable."

"Food is food," he said blandly, glad Choji wasn't here.

"Hm," she said, and fell silent. Then she switched topics abruptly. "They're going crazy in that hospital."

He didn't need to ask who she meant. "What makes you say that?"

She scowled. "Matsuri, for one. She was always sort of flighty, and unreasonably obsessed with my brother, but she's a reliable shinobi. I don't know where all this ridiculous crying is coming from."

"She's a girl. Of course she doesn't make any sense."

Had the snakes not already been dead, the look Temari gave him would have killed them. "There's also Baki-sensei," she said between gritted teeth. "He's being unusually critical."

Shikamaru thought back. "I didn't notice anything like that."

"Maybe you wouldn't, since you don't know him very well. But that comment he made about Kankuro not being very studious was peculiar. It's true Kankuro hasn't got much patience for books and theory, but to be a puppet master you have to understand complex mechanisms and a whole array of poisons. Baki-sensei has always praised Kankuro for his expertise and attention to detail."

"Why would he change his mind now?"

"He's just frustrated. They all are. Wouldn't you be, if you lost your jutsu and had to live as a civilian?"

Over her head, outside the window at the front of the restaurant, a sliver of empty blue sky was visible. Shikamaru looked up into it and said thoughtfully, "Not really. In some ways it would be less troublesome. Life would be more peaceful."

She snorted. "Until your village falls under attack and you have no way to defend yourself. Or until your friends go out to battle without you and die because you weren't there to protect them."

Of course she was right. He already knew that his skill was a gift that enabled him to protect those things that were precious to him – his comrades, his village. He had come a long way since his only real interest was cloud watching.

Since those days, Gaara had come a long way too, bonding closely enough with others to make it possible to strike at him through them. "Temari," said Shikamaru, "the more I think about it, the more I'm convinced that all this is being caused by someone's deliberate actions, and not by a disease or any other accidental cause. And if your brother really is their target, then whoever is after him wants more than to kill him. They want to make him suffer by taking out everyone close to him. It takes a special kind of malice to carry out a plan like that. Is there anyone you can think of who the Kazekage has hurt especially badly, maybe by killing their family or team?"

She sat back and stared at him. "You think someone is trying to take away Gaara's loved ones because he took theirs away?"

"It's possible."

She sighed. "Well, he certainly hasn't done anything like that since … since his fight with Naruto Uzumaki. But before then, he killed a lot of people. On our first mission together, we were sent to the Land of Water to catch an escaped prisoner. The man took refuge in a cottage and took the family inside hostage. He thought we would spare him in exchange for the family's safety, but of course he hadn't accounted for my brother. Gaara wrapped the prisoner and all but one of the family in his sand and crushed them to death. The survivor was a child, a little girl. I … will never forget the look on her face when we came in to collect what was left of our target. She looked like she'd just seen the end of the world."

Shikamaru listened in silence. He'd known that Gaara had been a monstrous person in his childhood, but the only victims he'd previously been aware of – the assassins sent by the Third Kazekage, Dosu of the Sound, Rock Lee – were other ninja. To kill innocent civilians like that was a terrible crime indeed.

"He wasn't in his right mind," said Temari in response to the look on his face. "He was just a little boy, and he'd never been allowed to use his jutsu freely before. But he'd already killed multiple times – all those assassins sent by our father – and it unbalanced him. He couldn't control himself." There was a strange note in her voice, at once defensive and pleading. Probably she'd spent more than a little time defending her little brother against his critics.

"I'm not here to blame anybody," said Shikamaru evenly. "Your village has seen fit to make him Kazekage and that's good enough for me. I can even tell that he's changed since the first time I met him. But what you just told me is exactly the kind of information I'm looking for – for all we know, that child could have grown up with revenge on the brain and come to Suna now to carry it out. I'd like you to write down the child's name and any other details you can remember, so we can add it to our data."

"I'll do that," she replied. She was looking at him steadily with the same soft look she'd worn in the desert when he vowed to help Baki. It was, he decided, quite a lovely expression on her. It also made him tremendously uncomfortable.

"We'd better get going," he said. "Hurry up and finish your snake."


	4. Deception Revealed

Over the next few days Shikamaru did more reading and note-taking than during his entire stint at the Academy. He and Temari had a room all to themselves in Suna's library, a great rounded edifice made of coarse desert sand. Creeping along inside its curved walls between towering stacks of books, Shikamaru felt uncannily like an insect toiling away in a hive.

"What time is it?" he asked Temari. She sat across from him at a tall wooden table whose surface was completely covered with books and stacks of paper, many of them bearing notes made in Shikamaru's cramped scrawl or Temari's boldly elegant script. The pile of information was so high that he could only locate his companion by the top of her spiky yellow hair, jutting up above a stack of bound mission records.

She peered around the tomes to look at him. There was a smear of ink across her pale forehead. "About 3 pm," she replied. "Not time for dinner yet." Then she vanished back behind the books.

They had taken to having their meals delivered to them in the library, usually by a terrified _genin_ who presented Temari with the food and then backed quickly out of the room. His fear of Suna's top kunoichi was justified, both because of her skills and because of the way tedious work combined with worry for her family made her temper even shorter than usual. The librarians had at first made some weak objections to their eating on the premises, but then Temari's eyes took on a dangerous look and her hand twitched back toward her great iron fan, and that was the end of that.

It could be useful to have someone pushy on your side, a fact which Shikamaru had learned long ago as a member of the same team as Ino Yamanaka. In her current mood Temari made Ino look like a pushover.

Of course Temari's drive was a double-edged sword, as it also meant that she kept a sharp eye out for any sign of slacking on Shikamaru's part. He kept trying to tell her that sitting still and simply _thinking_ was a vital part of his process, but she responded by saying that his eyes looked too blank for there to be anything useful going on behind them. So in those moments when he had to pause to consider the data, he made sure to direct his gaze toward a piece of paper or an open book. He also held a pencil in his hand for good measure, so that to a cursory glance he appeared to be merely pausing in the midst of jotting something down. So far the little deception had kept Temari quiet.

Right now he was looking down at a sheaf of papers covered in his own writing, a distillation of the schedules and bios of each of the five victims. From the huge quantity of data gathered before and after his arrival, he had assembled those facts which he deemed most relevant and recorded them here, in the hope that writing them together would reveal some heretofore unnoticed link. Collection, review, and selection of data: these steps should yield the correct answer, if done correctly. After so many days that was beginning to seem like a big _if_.

Matsuri, the first victim, had also been the only one to notice her affliction during the course of a mission. But she could not pinpoint the actual onset of the condition, because she had not tried any jutsu in the days before her ill-fated attempt at a clone. As a _chuunin_ she was proficient in all standard jutsu, and additionally she was quite skilled with the _jouhyuou_, a small spike on a rope used to disarm and ensnare opponents. The most notable aspects of her personal life were that she was an orphan and that she had been Gaara's very first student.

After Matsuri's incapacitation there had been a lull, a period of twelve days during which no new cases appeared and no one in Suna was aware of the true scope of the problem. But then Baki lost his jutsu. Baki was a _jounin_ and thus possessed a wide variety of techniques, though he seemed to favor those involving wind. His personal life was unremarkable; he was unmarried and his parents had also served the Sand as shinobi. The fact that he was among the victims was ominous, for he was both influential and powerful. What could affect him could probably reach almost anyone.

Next, only a couple of days after Baki, the _genin_ Akio lost his jutsu while on a training exercise. Akio was twelve, a newly minted ninja whose only missions so far consisted of errands in and around Suna. His parents were civilians who owned a sweet shop and did not approve of their son's choice of profession. Evidently Akio had decided to become a ninja after witnessing a puppetry demonstration given by Kankuro during a festival; he idolized the _jounin_ and wanted to follow in his footsteps. Temari said that the whole thing made Kankuro, who disliked children, uncomfortable, but Shikamaru thought it significant that the affliction had struck someone who emulated Kankuro before moving on to Kankuro himself.

Then, later on the same day as Akio, came Takeo, whose impairment began while he was on guard duty on Suna's high wall. He was notable only for his mediocrity; he had been a _chuunin_ for nearly five years and seemed destined to stay that way forever. He always did what was required of him and no more, a lack of initiative with which Shikamaru could personally identify. What had Shikamaru worried, though, was the fact that Takeo's similarity to Temari went beyond an affinity for the same element– like her, he also channeled his wind through a tool, a pair of sickles that he swung to send slicing gusts at his opponent. He would have been a fine warm-up for the Kazekage's sister.

The most recent case of course was Kankuro, whose formidable mastery of Suna's puppetry Shikamaru had witnessed firsthand. His past was as dark and twisted as his siblings', for as the son of the ruthless Third Kazekage and the brother of the container of Shukaku, he had seen more than his share of betrayal and atrocity.

Shikamaru sighed and looked up from his notes; no matter how many times he reread them he couldn't help but make the same conclusions. "I'm certain of it," he said, breaking the silence that had fallen over the little room.

"Certain of what?" Temari asked him. There was a rustling of paper, and then she slid aside the wall of books between them to look into his face.

"I'm certain that this has been done deliberately," said Shikamaru, "and that whoever's doing it is either in the village or nearby."

"How do you know?"

"It's the timeline. There was a long gap between Matsuri and Baki, which is consistent with someone testing out a new technique and waiting to assess its effectiveness. It makes sense that they would choose her first – she's close to Gaara, and she's a good example of a Sand-nin of average abilities. They hit her and then they watched carefully to see what would happen. When they were sure their technique worked and was permanent, they went after a bigger target – Baki. After taking him, a seasoned _jounin_, out of commission, they gained enough confidence to hit three more ninja within days of each other. But they hadn't thrown away all caution yet – they picked Akio and Takeo out as test subjects in preparation for their real targets, you and Kankuro. And all of it happened when the victims were either in the village or only a few days out from it, so the center of all this activity is definitely here. But the progression of victims makes too much sense for it to be random."

"So you still think all of this is aimed at Gaara?"

"Yes. Or maybe at your whole family – it's possible someone has a grudge against all of you, in which case it would make sense for them to pick you off one by one rather than confront you all together."

She sat back and folded her arms, frowning. "There's a hole in your theory," she said.

He raised an eyebrow. "A hole?"

"I haven't been attacked. And I can still use my jutsu." She made a couple of quick hand signs, and suddenly there were two Temaris, both looking at him defiantly. They spoke in concert: "According to you our enemies now know for certain that their technique is effective against a shinobi like me. So why haven't they come after me?"

He had a theory about that too, but was hesitant to voice it. "Well," he said reluctantly, "it could be more difficult for them to move now, because you're expecting it and because you're almost never alone."

The second Temari vanished with a popping noise as the original rocked back in her chair, laughing loudly. "You mean," she said, gasping for breath, "that people who were strong enough to take out Kankuro, to take out _Baki_, are hesitating now because _you're_ here?"

The fact that he'd been expecting this reaction didn't make it less annoying. "Pretty much," he confirmed.

Eventually her laughter subsided. "Didn't you say you believe in being honest about your own capabilities? You're not exactly intimidating."

"Maybe not, but I'm still an unknown quantity. Whoever is behind this, they are cautious and methodical, the kind who like to account for every variable before acting."

"_Shogi_ players, in other words."

"Yes. And good ones, too – they've taken out five ninja so far without leaving any obvious clues." He let that sink in, then asked, "Have you made any progress on that list Gaara gave you?" As promised, the Kazekage had presented them with a list of people who had reason to kill him, complete with their motives and probable locations. It was forty-four names long.

She nodded. "I think so. Of the original forty-four, twenty-five are dead or otherwise incapacitated. Of course someone could fake their own death, but ignoring that possibility for the moment, that leaves us nineteen names. I've been searching among those for cases that match the profile you gave me – people whose families or teams were killed by Gaara. That leaves three."

"And the person you mentioned, the girl from the Land of Water – is she one of the three?"

"Yes. She's also the only one of them I haven't been able to find any record of. The other two appear to be living normal lives – one as a merchant in the Land of Fire, and one as a teacher right here in the Land of Wind. I would say that this girl, Kanako Kimura, is our main suspect."

"Can you remember anything else about her, anything that might help us find or identify her?"

"Not really. She was just a little girl at the time, around Gaara's age. She'd be a teenager now."

Violence begetting violence, revenge begetting revenge … It was enough to make a person retire and play _shogi_ for the rest of his life. He said, "Even if this Kimura is the one behind it, we're still no closer to stopping her. And she may have help – I'd even say that's likely."

He looked down again at his notes, eyes automatically scanning the words written there even though he'd already memorized the important facts. Something dawned on him.

"Temari …."

"What?"

"It's been here the whole time, staring me in the face. I didn't notice it because it was so vague … But looking at the activities of the five victims in the days before they lost their jutsu, they all did something called 'Resource Protection Rotation.' What is that?"

She was already shaking her head by the time he finished. "No, that's not the link you're looking for. That's something every shinobi, from the newest _genin_ up to the Kazekage himself, does every three or four days. It's just a vague term for guard duty. Suna is only able to exist here because of the presence of a natural spring nearby. Without it, the village would have no water. So every Sand-nin has to take their turn protecting the spring on a regular basis. It's true that the five victims all did that in the days before they were affected, but so did every other shinobi of this village."

Damn. But Shikamaru wasn't ready to give up yet. "Still, it's the only thing all five have in common. It could be that whoever is causing this is waiting to strike until their intended victim is near the spring. It's actually a clever scheme – because every Sand-nin has to take a turn, they only have to sit and wait until the intended victim turns up, without the need for doing reconnaissance."

Temari thought a moment. "That … actually might explain why I haven't been affected yet. If they were planning to get me around the same time as Kankuro, waiting for me to take my turn, then they would have been disappointed – all of my other duties are on hold as long as I'm helping you."

"That fits," he agreed. "So you admit – it _could _be my presence here that's keeping you safe."

She scowled and folded her arms. "Even if it's true, it's really more of a side effect than anything you did intentionally."

"Whatever makes you feel better about it," he said snidely. Then he stood up, stretched, and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To see the Kazekage. We have a likely suspect and a good idea of where the enemy is holed up. What happens next is up to him."

***

Gaara listened to their theory with no visible expression. "I remember killing the Kimuras," he said when they had finished. "But I can't recall the child's face. Do you really think it's her?"

Shikamaru shrugged. "At this point it's nothing better than a good guess, based on the selection of victims. What's more important is that we think there may be clues, or even the people behind this, hidden near your village spring."

"In that case," said Gaara, "I'll order a search of the area."

"I have a better idea," said Temari. "Let's lay a trap for them. We think they want me next, and if that's the case, they'll be waiting for me to show up at the spring. We can have a team of ninja hide in and around the area, then I'll go in and try to draw the enemy out. When they come after me, we catch them."

Gaara's mouth tightened into a thin line. "No," he said. "It's too dangerous. I don't want you going there."

"Yeah, I have to agree," said Shikamaru. "You're forgetting that they've already managed to get two other _jounin_ who are at least as skilled as you, and neither of them noticed anything. It's not like they're going to jump out and attack you – it's more likely they'll stay hidden and use the same technique they used against the others. You'd lose your jutsu and we'd be no closer to an answer." He smiled wryly. "It's not that I object to using you as bait, I just don't think it'll get us anywhere."

"You got a better idea, then?"

"Of course. We need to survey the spring, but anybody we send in runs the risk of becoming the next victim. But our enemy seems unwilling to target anyone whose powers they haven't first scoped out. So the most logical choice is to send in someone they've never seen before."

"It sounds like you're volunteering."

"I guess I am."

Gaara was staring at Shikamaru. "Shikamaru," he said, "while you're here, you are my responsibility. I don't want to put you at unnecessary risk. But I agree that this seems like the best option. Are you sure you're willing to do it?"

He shrugged again. "It's a drag, but yeah, I'm willing. It beats sitting in the library all day with your sister, anyway. It'd be worth it just to get outside for a while. And like I told Temari, I wouldn't be all that devastated to become a civilian – I'd have a lot more time on my hands."

Gaara nodded solemnly. "Then I'll escort you there myself. Temari will return to the hospital to fill the others in on your theories and ask for their input."

At this, Temari scowled and opened her mouth to protest. Gaara silenced her by holding up a single hand.

"It's not a request," he said flatly.

She shut up and left to do as she was told.

***

Suna's only spring flowed from the midst of a rock formation just outside the village's wall, a haphazard collection of boulders tumbling from the southern point of the hollow mesa onto the blowing sand. A narrow zigzag passage cut into the wall led them outside, and by the time they reached its end Shikamaru could hear the unmistakable sound of running water.

Gaara halted, as did the two hulking bodyguards he'd brought with him. "This is where I leave you," he said. "Just follow this path straight, and you'll reach the installation around the spring. I've already sent word for the guards to admit you and assist you any way they can."

"Thanks," said Shikamaru. They had agreed that he would conduct the search of the spring alone, for even though the next most likely target was Temari, he couldn't rule out the possibility that Gaara was also on the list of intended victims. It would be disastrous if the Kazekage lost his ability to perform ninjutsu.

"I'll wait for you here," said Gaara.

Shikamaru had already started toward the spring, but at this he turned back in surprise. "That's not necessary. I'm sure you've got more important things to do."

"Not really." Gaara looked briefly at the ground, then met Shikamaru's gaze with his own icy stare. "Solving this mystery and helping those who've been affected is my highest priority."

"Of course. It's a threat to your village if its finest shinobi are taken out of commission."

"It's not just that. This is not the first time that others have suffered because they were close to me. As the Kazekage it is my duty to protect this village, but instead I seem to draw it into conflict."

It was true that Gaara's presence in the Sand had attracted unwanted attention in the past, in particular from Akatsuki, and that some of his subordinates had paid for it with their lives. Shikamaru couldn't possibly deny those facts, and he didn't think the Kazekage was expecting him to.

"The Leaf has also suffered due to the presence of its own _jinchuuriki_," he said after some thought. "But I don't think anybody really regrets having Naruto around. To his friends and comrades, he's worth the risk. The people of Suna must feel the same, or they wouldn't accept you as Kazekage."

Gaara blinked, considering his words. Finally he simply repeated, "I'll wait for you here."

Shikamaru nodded and turned to go. Soon a bend in the passageway hid Gaara from sight, and a few meters after that he exited into daylight. The vista that greeted him was a study in contrast, blue above and red below, everything vastly bigger than in the claustrophobic forests around Konoha. The path before him wound across and between rocks the size of houses, terminating at a squat brick building built over a low place among the boulders – the spring. He made his way there, careful of the treacherous footing.

His progress was being observed by shinobi positioned along the path, but the Kazekage's advance warning kept anyone from impeding his progress. At the building's entrance he was greeted by a man in the same mold as Baki – heavily muscled, face partially obscured by wrappings. They went inside.

Within, a railing jutted out from the walls to overlook a foaming pool, and the air thrummed with the roar of water and the sound of machinery. "This is where the water is purified before being pumped into the village!" his guide shouted above the noise.

"How many guards inside the building?" Shikamaru asked. He had to repeat the question several times before the other man heard him.

"Three!" He pointed at himself, then across the way to where a woman stood on the balcony opposite them, then down below to where a man could barely be seen among the machines at the edge of the pool. As they watched, that one moved about a meter to the right, casually stepping out onto the surface of the water as he did so.

"I'm going to look around!" Shikamaru shouted, eliciting a nod from his guide. He hoped he didn't have to ask too many questions of these people – trying to make yourself heard over the spring's cacophony was a real pain.

During the next hour, he thoroughly searched the inside of the installation, then moved outside when that proved fruitless. The great boulders were also devoid of clues, and the only thing he gained after scouring the area was a painful burn from the merciless desert sun. There really wasn't any place here for hypothetical assailants to hide out – the brick building was too small and cramped with machines, while its surroundings were too exposed. He was going to have to rethink his theory altogether.

He started back to Suna with a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction. His suppositions had been based on very little evidence, but they fit the situation so well he was loath to abandon them. He was supposed to be clever but right now he felt stupid, uncertain what to try next. Possibly they could adapt Temari's idea of an ambush …

Gaara was right where he'd left him, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the passageway, examining something in the palm of his hand. He looked up when Shikamaru came into view.

"You're back," he said. "Did you find anything?"

"No. And now that I've seen it, I find it unlikely that anybody could conceal themselves near the spring. It's too heavily guarded, and there are no good hiding places. I think we need a new approach."

He had expected Gaara to be disappointed, but incredibly the Kazekage greeted this pronouncement with a slight smile. "I wouldn't throw the old one away so soon," he said. "Look." He held out his left hand, where something shiny was cupped in his palm.

Bending closer, Shikamaru saw that it was a _kunai_ with a broken hilt. The shape was slightly different from those used by the Leaf, but there was no mistaking the little knife's size and sharpness.

"It's a _kunai_," he said. "But I've never seen one like this before. Is it one of Suna's?"

"No. But this shape is prevalent in the Land of Water."

Shikamaru gaped. "But … where did you find it?"

In response Gaara pointed upward. With his eyes Shikamaru followed the walls of the passageway up to where they met in a point high above. It seemed this passageway had been carved to follow a natural seam in the rock, for the portion of the walls above head-height was rough and irregular, hewn by nature and not by man. There were a number of ledges up there, some only a few centimeters wide, others deep enough that their back wall was lost in darkness.

Immediately Shikamaru understood. "They were up there," he said, "on a ledge."

"Yes," Gaara replied. "On _that_ ledge, specifically." He indicated one about ten meters above the ground. "There was an abandoned campsite there – discarded torches, and this. It was a perfect choice – it let the enemy see who was coming to and from the spring without being observed themselves, and they would only have to fear discovery when the guard changed every few hours. In between they would have had this passage to themselves."

"But how did you know? What made you think to look up there?"

"It was the sand. The wind blew through here while you were gone, and it blew sand off all the ledges in here, except that one."

Of course. It was simple, but subtle. "Because the enemy had already cleared away the sand up there when they set up camp. It's a good thing you noticed that and understood what it meant!"

"I am always aware of the sand. Had it been snow or feathers, it might have escaped my attention."

"Did you use your sand to get up to the ledge?"

"Yes."

"Then your jutsu is still working – that's good."

"What about yours?"

In the excitement of having his guesses confirmed, he'd totally forgotten the risk. Gaara's bodyguards carried electric torches that cast angular shadows over the rocky walls; with a little effort of will Shikamaru was able to manipulate one of those into a fat line that writhed like a snake for a moment before falling back into its original form.

"Still fine," he said. He couldn't help but be a little relieved.

"I see," said Gaara. "I'll take you up to the ledge in a moment to examine it for yourself. I believe it hasn't been occupied for at least a week, so whoever was camped there has moved somewhere else. But there definitely _was_ somebody hiding up there. It seems your instinct to come to this area was correct, as was your guess about the identity of our enemy. I am impressed – I see Temari was right to suggest we ask for your help."

Shikamaru's thoughts were whirling, his mind in overdrive. But something in Gaara's words brought him up short.

"Wait – it was Temari's idea to bring me here?"

"Yes. She remembered you from the _chuunin_ exams, and had also heard of your victory against Akatsuki. I was skeptical about bringing in an outsider, but she was adamant."

So she'd lied, attributed his presence here to Gaara instead of herself. Obviously she had been too proud to admit the truth to him.

It was a long day, as he and the Kazekage minutely examined every centimeter of the passageway looking for more clues. In the end, the _kunai_ was all they found. By the time they left it was already night, the moon bright and full in the sky, and they were no closer to knowing the current location of their enemy. But in spite of his exhaustion and the magnitude of the task ahead, when he remembered Temari's lie, Shikamaru couldn't keep from grinning.


	5. Incomplete Resolution, and a Confession

They had put him up in a small room across the street from the library, an arrangement intended for his convenience that nonetheless depressed him. Every morning immediately after he woke, and every night before he went to bed, Shikamaru saw the oppressive sight of his prison hulking right outside his window. It was a constant reminder of all they didn't know, all they had yet to do. It had occurred to him that Temari, realizing the effect it would have on him, might have suggested these lodgings herself. He meant to ask Gaara about it at the next opportunity.

After returning from his excursion with the Kazekage, Shikamaru was so tired he didn't even have the energy to glance outside, just dropped fully clothed onto the bed and fell immediately asleep. The next thing he knew, there was bright light streaming into the room and a loud pounding on the door. Someone was shouting out there, telling him to get up, and as soon as he recognized it as a woman's voice he knew whose it must be.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily as he opened the door. It was Temari, of course, looking indecently energetic this early in the day.

"Morning," she said shortly, smirking a little as she took in the shadows under his eyes and his rumpled clothes. "Time to get to work."

"Did the Kazekage fill you in on what we found?" He was hoping the answer was _no_, so that he could persuade her to go speak with her brother and view the _kunai_ for herself. That would buy him perhaps an hour's more sleep.

"Yes," she replied. "I know everything about your search. That's what I want to talk to you about. I have an idea."

"What kind of idea?"

"That'll wait until you get cleaned up. I can't haul you around Suna looking like that – it'd be an embarrassing. I'll give you five minutes to get ready."

"_Five minutes_? It's not like the data's going anywhere."

"Neither are the victims, without their jutsu. There's no time to waste. Four minutes."

He wanted to say something snappy in reply, something about how troublesome and bossy she was, but his brain was so sleep-sodden that he couldn't assemble the words into a coherent sentence. Instead he just shut the door in her face and slouched toward the bathroom, muttering, "What a pain," to himself as he did so.

With ten seconds to spare he was ready, have done nothing except brush his teeth and splash some cold water on his face. If she didn't like the result, so be it – she was partly to blame.

He opened the door again to find her standing with her arms crossed, tapping her foot impatiently. "What's this idea of yours?" he asked.

"The spring," she said. "We have to go back to the spring."

For that, she'd hauled him out of bed early? And it _was_ early; now that he was more awake, he could see that the streets were mostly empty and the sunlight had the pale, tentative look of dawn. No wonder he didn't feel rested. "We've already been there. We've found everything there is to find. There's no reason to go back."

For some reason she looked triumphant. "Exactly! _There's no reason to go back!_ The enemy will be thinking the same thing, which makes it the perfect hiding place for them! Where better to hide, than someplace we've already searched?"

Shikamaru stared at her a moment, nonplussed. "I'm not following," he replied.

She scowled. "And you're supposed to be smart! Look, wouldn't you agree that everything the enemy has done so far suggests an inside source of data? They knew about the spring, and Matsuri's and Baki's relationships with Gaara."

"I guess so." He wasn't sure they couldn't have learned about the spring by spying on the village, and surely the fact that Matsuri and Baki were Gaara's student and teacher was common knowledge here. But an inside source also made sense.

"Then that same source will have told them about our visit to the spring and our discovery of the _kunai_! Think about it from their perspective – if we've already searched the spring, they won't be expecting us to look there again. So they'll double back and reestablish their camp."

It certainly wasn't impossible. But Shikamaru couldn't see how she was so certain. "That's just one possibility," he said carefully. "Another is that they're in a different location altogether."

She shook her head emphatically, balled her hands into fists. He hadn't been imagining it – she really was wound up. "No, I _know_ they're there. That's why I want to go back and confront them. They won't be expecting it, so we'll have a better chance of catching them."

For a moment he just looked at her, trying to understand this sudden urgency. It didn't make sense, but in his experience women often didn't. "You just want to be doing something," he diagnosed finally. "You saw your brother and comrades in the hospital yesterday, and it got to you. You want to take some kind of concrete action."

She looked away briefly, then met his eyes again. "Is that so wrong?" she asked softly.

Shikamaru thought of Asuma, of the way he'd felt when he was setting out to take revenge against Hidan. "No, it's not," he answered. "If you really want to see the place for yourself, we'd better get going. We can come back to the library later today."

She gave a stiff nod, then turned on her heel and began to walk up the street. He hurried to keep up.

"You do realize," he said after a few minutes of walking, "that you're putting yourself in danger? Your brother specifically said he didn't want you going there. What if you lose your jutsu?"

She shrugged. "I'll take the chance. I've had about enough of this. Anyway, if I'm right and they are acting on inside information, then they won't be expecting to see me – they'll know I've been reassigned. So they won't be ready to use their technique. And it sounds like they waited to attack until their victims were alone in that passageway. But … I'm not going by myself."

He guffawed loudly enough to draw a dirty look from an old woman sweeping sand off her front walk. "Are you actually admitting that you're counting on _me_ for protection?"

She cast a fiery sideways glare at him. "That a problem? Don't think you're up to it?"

Well, _that_ wasn't the response he'd been expecting. She must have been really shaken up by that trip to the hospital to openly acknowledge her dependence on him. He wondered if now was the right time to bring up her earlier deception. In the next instant he decided against it – there would be plenty of time for that later, and anyway he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to say.

"Whether I'm up to it or not," he said, "if _I'm_ right and they're not there at all, then there won't be any need for me to protect you." That was the main reason he hadn't nixed this little excursion – he didn't believe Temari's pursuers were actually waiting for her at the spring. He thought it likeliest they had moved on.

Temari set a quick pace and they reached the passageway leading out to the spring in less than an hour, though by the time they got there she was showing visible signs of fatigue – faster breathing, a sheen of sweat on her forehead, a tendency to lean back and rest the weight of her fan on the ground. This trip should have been nothing to her given the endurance she'd demonstrated on the journey from Konoha, but Shikamaru supposed her concern for the other victims might have kept her up all night, and that she might now be feeling the effects of sleeplessness. He experienced a stab of pity.

"Hold it," he said when she made as if to enter the passageway before him. "You might not be worried about the risk, but there's no reason to be reckless. I'll go first."

She shrugged and gestured carelessly into the dark tunnel. "After you, then."

After yesterday he was intimately familiar with the irregular stone corridor; he led her with confidence through its twists and turns until he recognized the pattern of ledges and clefts on the walls. "This is the place," he told her. Then he pointed upward, to the ledge where Gaara had found the Water Country _kunai_. "That's where they hid. I took a look at it yesterday. There was definitely a person, or several people, camped up there, but it looked as if the campsite had been abandoned since right after Kankuro was affected."

She gazed upward, squinting in the gloom. "Why do you suppose they left?"

He shook his head. "Not sure. It could have been part of their original plan to keep shifting hiding places to avoid detection. Maybe they expected the investigation to intensify after they struck the Kazekage's brother and acted in preparation for that. Or maybe you're right and they do have inside information, and they got spooked by my arrival. There's no way to tell given the current data."

She took that in. "I see. Let's move on to the spring itself."

"What? Don't you want to look at the campsite?" It would be a pain, but even without Gaara's help they could get up there by channeling chakra to their feet and climbing the wall.

"Later, on the way back. I just feel like we should go look at the spring first."

Women. "Fine, whatever. But I checked yesterday and there's no way anybody could hide there."

"We'll see," she said.

The spring was exactly as he remembered it, a roiling pool of white foam surrounded by machines. The noise was quite as disagreeable the second time around. They descended a rickety set of metal stairs to stand at the water's edge, where a fine mist dampened their clothes and hair and the roar was so loud it drowned out everything, even thought.

"See, there's nothing!" he bellowed at her, waving his arm to encompass the whole complex, which looked just as it had yesterday.

She said nothing, just kept weaving her way amongst the machines, peering around corners and into unlikely crevices. What she was looking for, Shikamaru was sure even she couldn't have said.

Then he realized – there _was_ one part of the building he hadn't bothered to check. "Temari!" he shouted. She looked back at him. "Let's look in the water! In the water!" He pointed down into the depths of the spring, where the serpentine movement of long currents could be barely discerned beneath the turbulent surface. He hadn't thought to check underwater yesterday, and he didn't really expect to find anything today. Certainly the enemy wasn't hiding down there, but they might have used it to dispose of incriminating items, evidence. It was worth a try.

Temari blanched when she understood his suggestion, but she halted what she was doing and came to join him at the pool's edge. She looked down into the water and up at him, then sighed and reached behind her to remove her iron fan in preparation for diving.

Then they were attacked.

From across the pool, a volley of _shuriken_ flew toward Shikamaru. He saw them in his peripheral vision and quickly ascertained that they were so poorly thrown there was no need for him to dodge.

From the point where the _shuriken_ had been launched, a small figure darted out and sprinted around the pool toward them; metal flashed in its hand and a cry of challenge issued from its lips.

In a moment the figure had drawn close enough to be seen clearly. It was a young woman with short brown hair, a childish build, and eyes that seethed with unquenchable hatred. She was carrying a _kunai_, blade pointed outward, and her hurtling course was directed at Temari.

"Temari!" shouted Shikamaru in warning, but it was unnecessary, for his companion had already spotted their assailant and taken a fighting pose. She did not take up her fan again – perhaps she didn't think she had the time. She seemed intent on engaging their attacker hand-to-hand instead.

Shikamaru knew he was no good at close quarters, so he clasped his hands in a hand sign and extended his shadow toward the advancing girl, hoping to paralyze her before she could draw near enough to do any damage. But as his shadow closed in on her the girl leaped nimbly sideways and kept running; she did this each time it seemed he might catch her in his jutsu. Clearly, someone had warned her about Shikamaru's shadows.

She came within arm's reach of Temari and drew back the _kunai_ to stab, and as the light glinted from its deadly point Shikamaru saw that it was made in the same style as the broken one from the passageway. The girl was aggressive, but Temari stood a head taller than her and outweighed her by a considerable amount. One punch from the Sand _jounin_ sent their assailant flying backward to crash against the sharp corner of a humming steel mechanism. Blood flowed from a gash on her temple as she stumbled shakily to her feet; Shikamaru thought her finished, on the verge of collapse.

But this thought was premature, for their assailant snarled and hurled the _kunai_ at Temari, then turned and darted backward, up the staircase and out the entrance. Shikamaru and Temari exchanged a look and then sprinted after her, Temari first stooping to retrieve her fan.

They found her right outside, surrounded by Sand-nin who'd been patrolling the area and come running at the sound of fighting. The guards from inside the installation, taken as much by surprise as Shikamaru and Temari, were right behind them. They formed a ring around her, ten Sand-nin and Shikamaru against one crazed girl.

"Stand back!" Temari ordered the others. "She's mine!" She advanced a few paces and fixed their quarry with a venomous glare. "What's your name?" she spat.

The girl hissed and launched herself at Temari again, and with a solid _thud_ was sent sprawling onto the ground.

"Name," Temari demanded again.

The girl lay on the ground, scowling upward. She turned her head to the side and spat blood, then said clearly, "Kanako Kimura."

Temari nodded. "I thought so."

"I already know your name," Kimura said, sitting up slowly. "Temari, sister of Kankuro and of the monster Gaara. I'll never forget your face."

"So you came here to kill the Kazekage and his family?" asked Shikamaru. Something didn't seem right – why would she resort to such a clumsy ambush when she had a powerful jutsu-stealing technique at her disposal?

Kimura's eyes flicked over to him, and the rage in them did not dim at all. "That's right. Along with anyone who gets in my way."

He cocked his head sideways and looked at her appraisingly. "There's no way you could expect to do it alone," he said flatly. "Who helped you?'

"No one," she replied, a little too quickly.

"Liar!" said Temari. "Your skills don't compare to the average _genin_. You've had help."

Kimura sneered. "I may not have your brute strength," she said coldly, "but I have the best sealing jutsu in the Five Countries. Just ask your brother the ex-_jounin_."

At that Temari snarled and raised her fan threateningly, but Shikamaru stepped up quickly and held an arm in front of her. "So you took their jutsu to make it possible to kill them?" he asked.

"And to humiliate them. To make them feel as powerless as I was that day."

"Then why attack Temari like that? Why not just take her jutsu too?"

"I thought I could defeat her."

He just kept staring at her. "Really? With no combat skills to speak of?"

Unbelievably, Kimura smiled at this, an expression utterly empty of joy. "Well," she said slowly, crossing her arms and tucking her hands into her sleeves, "maybe you're right. It could be that all I really wanted was an opportunity to get close to Temari." She uncrossed her arms, and as her hands withdrew from her sleeves he saw that they were each clutching a sheaf of rectangular tags inscribed with strange symbols.

Shikamaru recognized them at once, and he swore as he immediately began to extend his shadow. He had to paralyze her in time …

He wasn't going to make it, for Kimura had already wiped the tags on the blood oozing from her injuries, and the writing on them began to glow a bright and ominous blue. In a split second he decided; his lengthening shadow changed course and hit Temari instead, and he sent both of them hurtling backward in the same instant as the sheaf of exploding tags detonated.

He had closed his eyes but still saw the flash, a sudden whiteness more intense than the sun that left black afterimages swimming in his streaming eyes. Everyone was on the ground, a few people moaning and clutching injuries. Of Kanako Kimura, nothing remained except a smoking crater.

"Are you all right?' he asked Temari. She was sprawled out beside him, propped up on one elbow, staring in horror at the place where Kimura had been.

"It was a suicide attack," she said wonderingly. "She couldn't get to me like she got to the others, so she decided to blow us both up." Then she turned to him, her eyes still wide. "And you saved my life."

"Yeah," he replied, "I guess I did."

***

By nightfall the injuries had been treated, the minor damage to the installation around the spring repaired. The crater remained, but in time the blowing sands would wear it away. Shikamaru stood on a balcony outside Suna's central administration building, leaning on its cold metal railing and looking out over the sleeping village.

Behind him a door opened and closed, and someone crossed the balcony to join him.

"It's finally over," said Temari, in a voice that seemed to carry in the cool night air.

"The thing is," said Shikamaru, turning to look at her, "I'm not sure it is. So much of it still doesn't add up."

"Like what?"

"Like how a girl who couldn't even throw a _shuriken _properly managed to use a sealing jutsu powerful enough to rob five people of their abilities. Or why she suddenly changed her strategy from stealth to direct assault. Or why she decided to sacrifice herself to take you out, when she still hadn't killed any of the others or done any direct harm to Gaara." He paused. "I don't believe she did this alone. She must have had accomplices."

"I agree. So does the Kazekage."

"So how can you say it's over?"

"Well, even if we haven't caught everyone responsible or figured out exactly _how_ it was done, the fact remains that we've killed one of the people behind it and discovered their motive. Her attack was one of desperation, and that together with the evidence that they moved camp after your arrival suggests we have them on the run. They won't keep attacking now; they'll flee. So there won't be any new victims. Now it's just a matter of hunting them down and making them explain exactly what they did."

"And how do you propose to do that, when the only person who might have known their names blew herself into a thousand pieces?"

"Tracker-nin are already going over the passageway and the spring as we speak. They'll try to pick up the scents of our enemies and follow them."

"And if that fails?"

"We'll investigate Kimura's life, try to trace her associates that way. In any case, the imminent threat to the village is over. That means your part in all this is also done – the rest will be left to specialists."

His hands gripped the railing. "I guess I should be glad about that. No more tedious work."

"But you're not glad."

He shrugged. "Not really. There are too many unanswered questions. And none of the people who've lost their jutsu got it back. It's an unsatisfying ending."

In a husky voice she said, "Yes. But I guess that's how the real world is – nothing ends cleanly or neatly. Some things … don't turn out all right after all."

The pain in her voice was unmistakable. Her teacher and brother might now be permanently disabled. Bitterly he remembered his promise to restore their powers to them, fervent resolutions that proved to be merely empty words.

"Temari," he said, "I'm truly sorry. I should have seen things sooner. If I had deduced where they were hiding right away, Kankuro might have been saved. And if I had been able to locate them all, we might have gotten them to undo what they've done."

She shook her head. "No, it's not your fault. You're the one who first profiled Kimura, and you're the one who thought to look at the spring. Without those pieces of information we might not have stopped the plot in time to save Gaara. And … you saved me from becoming their last victim. I'd have been caught in the blast if you hadn't pulled me back."

"Maybe so. But I wanted to do more." He sighed. "What will you do now?"

Her expression hardened. "I've asked Gaara for permission to join the tracking teams. I'm going to find a solution to this, give everyone back their jutsu and their pride."

"No," he said after a while, "I don't think you should do that."

Her eyes widened. "You think I should just abandon them because they lost their jutsu? Baki is my teacher, and Kankuro is still my br—"

He cut her off: "No, that's not what I mean. It's more of that stuff about men and women that you hate so much." His mouth twisted into a wry smile. "Something my dad once said to me: 'Men are no good without any women around. Even the roughest woman is tender to the guy she loves.' It'll do Kankuro and Baki more good for you to stay close by and help them adjust. Show them it doesn't matter to you that they lost their jutsu."

"You … really think I can do that? That I have that kind of thing in me?"

She was the toughest woman he'd ever met, including his mother. She was sharp and untamable like the wind she fought with. But here in the moonlight she was different, her hard edges softened, her snide attitude lost in her concern for her family. He looked at her closely for an uncomfortably long time and then replied, "Yeah, I think you do."

She looked down briefly. He couldn't be sure in this light, but when she met his eyes again he thought she might be blushing slightly. She took a step closer to him.

"You know," she said softly, "you're right."

She kissed him then. It wasn't a total surprise; he'd been expecting – hoping—for this for some time, but now that the moment was here he felt shaky and unsure. He put his arms around her and found her to be pleasantly soft, though the hard ridge of the iron fan under his forearms was a forceful reminder of her power.

Then she let go of him, pulled back. Reluctantly he let her go. There was no question of it, she was definitely blushing now. Hell, by the heat in his own face, he probably was too. He realized his mouth was hanging open and closed it. Any second now, she was going to tell him how stupid he looked. He looked forward to it.

"Shikamaru," she said throatily. He tensed. "I know you have to go back to the Leaf village to report in. But … you should try to come back here as soon as you can. Kankuro needs me now, and I … need you."

Following this pronouncement she took a few steps backward, turned, and walked to the door. She opened it and cast one look back at him over her shoulder, then passed through the doorway and was gone.

He stayed rooted in place, staring vacantly at the closed door. Since she hadn't said it, he silently told himself _You look stupid_. It was true, and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. Eventually he came to himself enough to raise his arms and clasp his hands together in his own private hand sign, the circle he used when he needed to think. He turned in place and propped his elbows on the railing, so that when he looked through his hands he saw all of Suna circumscribed, laid out silently for his consideration. He stared into the circle, into his own mind, and saw many different things: Temari, the spring, Matsuri's tears, Gaara, the _kunai_, Temari. His thoughts moved in neat intersecting orbits, slowly granting him understanding.

He stayed like that all night.


	6. Another Deception Revealed

Daybreak in the desert was sudden and spectacular. In Konoha the morning came slowly, gradually slanting over the trees and mountains, but here in Suna the transition from darkness to light was accelerated by the flat unobstructed horizon. Nighttime black lightened to gray, and then in the next instant the great fiery disk of the sun reared up to flood the landscape with orange light. It was glorious, shocking, like the beginning of a new romance.

Shikamaru saw it and knew it was his cue to act. For the first time since his arrival a few wispy clouds could be seen in the sky, and he took this as a good omen.

He was stiff and uncomfortable after a night spent standing in unmoving contemplation, and the evening breeze seemed to have left a chill in his bones. As he moved through the halls of Suna's central administration building he encountered only one or two bleary-eyed shinobi coming off nighttime guard duty; they recognized him from his work on the investigation and let him pass. He reached the Kazekage's office unopposed, pushed open the doors, and stepped inside.

As expected, Gaara had yet to arrive. What Shikamaru had not expected was to see Temari already there, standing behind her brother's desk, staring out the window with her arms folded. Her green eyes flicked over to him as he entered, and lingered on his face while her lips curved into a slightly mocking smile. Gone was last night's vulnerability; with the rising of the sun she seemed to have recovered her surety and combativeness. She was no less beautiful for the change, no less dangerous.

"Thought you were leaving today," she said. "I ordered a couple of _chuunin_ to escort you to the village gates."

"You weren't going to see me off yourself?"

"I think I already did an adequate job of that. Last night."

He couldn't help but smile at her audacity. "You certainly have a high opinion of yourself."

"Judging from those bags under your eyes, it's not unjustified."

He knew what she meant. He hadn't seen himself in a mirror since yesterday morning, but he could imagine how ragged he looked after a sleepless night. His mind, though, felt perfectly clear.

"I came to speak with the Kazekage," he said simply. "What brings you here so early?"

She shrugged. "The same. I have some important things to say to him."

"No doubt. But as long as he still isn't here, there _is _something I want to ask you." He paused and looked her straight in the eye, while her smile widened and she tilted her head in a calculatedly flirtatious way. "Is Temari still alive?"

Instantly she straightened up and her smile vanished. Significantly, she looked far more angry than confused. "What's _that_ supposed to mean?" she demanded. "Of course I'm alive. I'm right here."

"Yes you are," he replied calmly, "but whoever you are, you aren't Temari."

"Why the _hell_ would you say that?"

"The real Temari was taken – kidnapped or killed, I don't know – the day before yesterday, when she was sent to the hospital to talk to the victims. There, the imposters pretending to be Baki, Kankuro, and the others were able to attack to her without any interference from me. They replaced her with a stand-in who was identical to her in every way except one – the ability to perform _ninjutsu_. Then the replacement, you, carried out a plan to get rid of me by convincing me the danger had passed. When that wasn't completely effective and I still had questions, you tried to distract me. You're a good actress; it almost worked."

Her face took on a wounded look. "Almost? Shikamaru, I thought … we had a connection. How can you say such awful things?" As she uttered this last question her eyes widened and began to mist over with tears.

He snorted. "This is the same mistake you made yesterday, you know. Overdoing it. Temari doesn't cry."

"No," agreed a raspy voice from behind him, "she doesn't."

"Gaara!" exclaimed Temari, looking over Shikamaru's shoulder to where the Kazekage had just stepped into his office. "This Leaf-nin is making some awful accusations!"

Shikamaru turned his head to glance at the Kazekage, careful not to lose sight of the imposter. "How much did you hear?" he asked Gaara.

"Enough to know you think Temari and all of the other victims are imposters," he answered. "She's certainly not acting like my sister. But she's been very upset lately over what happened to Kankuro. Her current behavior could be explained by severe emotional disturbance. I hope you have more proof."

"Sure thing," said Shikamaru. "Yesterday she came to get me very early and insisted on going to the spring again, even though there was no good reason for doing so. She passed it off as the effect of seeing the victims again, and I believed her. But that should have been a clue, since the real Temari had been dealing with her grief by becoming more focused and driven. She's not the kind of weak person who gives in to emotional impulses when there's work to be done."

"I suppose she isn't," said Gaara. "When I was kidnapped by Akatsuki, Kankuro recklessly ran out alone after my abductors and was almost killed. But Temari had enough discipline to obey orders and remain behind protecting the village while others effected a rescue."

"Gaara," said Temari pleadingly, "that was different. Then, there was nothing I could do. But this time I really felt I could make a difference, and I turned out to be right, didn't I? We _did_ catch one of the culprits at the spring."

"That's true," Gaara admitted. "What about that, Shikamaru?"

"It was staged," he replied. "This woman was never in any real danger. The real target was me all along. They wanted to convince me the investigation was over so I'd go back to the Leaf and allow them to get on with their plans."

"That's ridiculous!" Temari spat. "Of course I was in real danger! Kanako Kimura tried to kill me with a suicide attack!"

Shikamaru shook his head. "There's no denying she died by her own hand, but she never meant to take you with her."

***

_Interlude: Kanako Kimura_

_She was ten when the Sand-nin came, nearly the same age as they were. But the three ninja possessed the jaded callousness of much older warriors, and the youngest of them displayed a bloodlust verging on insanity. When his sand encased her parents and siblings along with the criminal who had taken them hostage, her shrill pleas for mercy fell on deaf ears. Gaara clenched his fist and the sand mimicked the movement, crushing to death everyone she'd ever loved. Their blood splattered over every surface in the little house, and onto her face and hands. As the Sand-nin turned to go the oldest of them, the blond girl, looked back and caught sight of Kanako's horror-stricken face. She seemed about to say something and then changed her mind, because of course no words could possibly be appropriate. Temari and Kanako were thinking the same thing in that instant, that it would have been kinder to kill her too._

_Kanako never forgot any of their faces. Every detail about her attackers was planted firmly in her mind, and from this seed of bitter memory grew a consuming hatred. It sustained her through the years spent as an orphan, homeless and hungry on the streets, and it gave her enough courage to approach a roving band of thieves one day and demand to join them. _

_Her new companions were a cruel and petty lot, limited to minor robberies and burglaries because of their lack of ninja skills. Except for Kanako they were all related to one another, and their ragged clan possessed a single talent, a peculiar gift borne in the blood: mimicry. It allowed them to commit their crimes and elude capture, but was not enough to make them truly major players in the underworld. So they hatched a scheme to kidnap real shinobi and discover the secrets behind their jutsu, in hopes of becoming a power to be reckoned with. Kanako was quick to suggest suitable victims: the trio of Sand-nin who had slaughtered her family. The bandits agreed._

_It was Kanako who designed their elaborate plan, which called for the use of test victims and the laying of false trails to obscure their real intentions. They would have to move carefully, attacking their victims in isolation, advancing slowly and indirectly toward the sand siblings. Gaara in particular would be hard to reach, for as the Kazekage he was seldom alone. But if they first took out those close to him and surrounded him with imposters, inevitably they would catch him unaware. _

_Thus their first victim was not one of the siblings but Matsuri, whose proximity to Gaara made her an attractive target for Kanako. They knocked her out with a colorless odorless gas as she made her way toward Suna's spring, and one of their clanswomen took her place. The substitution was not discovered for many days, and when it was they passed it off as a medical problem._

_Baki fell just as easily, for still no one suspected anything. Kanako had again picked him because he was close to Gaara, and also because her companions coveted all of the many jutsu sure to be known by a jounin. But there was no way Baki's replacement could carry out a jounin's normal duties without revealing his inability to perform ninjutsu, so immediately after the substitution they had Baki report in as the second victim._

_By this time Suna knew something was happening, but still they did not understand that they were under attack. To throw them off the scent, and as practice for the all-important assaults on Kankuro and Temari, Kanako selected as their next targets an obscure pair of shinobi who had attracted her attention simply because of the nature of their jutsu. It went off perfectly, and now Kanako and her associates were poised to begin their main attack, with four imposters undercover in Suna's hospital awaiting an opportunity to hit Gaara._

_Kanako knew an intense feeling of satisfaction the day she saw Kankuro lying unconscious at her feet, knocked out by the same gas as the other four. To understand his jutsu enough to replicate it, they were going to have to subject him to a long, slow process of experimentation. At the end of it he would probably be dead, and would certainly be in pain. He was going to feel the same agony and helplessness as her family._

_Then Temari arrived in the village with the Leaf-nin, Shikamaru Nara, and it all began to unravel. He was inconveniently perceptive; he deduced at once that someone was targeting those close to Gaara. Kanako decided they should move their camp, and that they should hold off a while before striking at Temari or the Kazekage. If they only waited, the Leaf-nin would leave and they could resume operations._

_But then Temari came unescorted to the hospital room housing the five imposters, and Kanako's comrades thought the opportunity too good to pass up. Faux-Kankuro drew close to her and injected her with a sedative, and they called another clanswoman to take her place. But the prospect of deceiving Nara close-up daunted Kanako, and when the report Temari had given before being replaced was relayed to her she knew they had to get rid of him. He knew too much; he knew they'd been hiding near the spring and he even knew her name. They would have to drive him away by giving him exactly what he wanted._

_The new plan was hatched in haste and had holes, and Kanako could only hope her comrade's acting skills would be sufficient to cover them. Faux-Temari would use some pretext for bringing Nara back to the spring, and in front of him Kanako would launch an attack. She would allow herself to be captured, and she would tell them she'd acted alone so they would think it was finally over. Once Nara was gone, faux-Temari would release her from captivity and they would finally strike Gaara._

_They had to make the attack believable, had to make it seem as if Kanako was genuinely trying to kill Temari. But Kanako had no real combat skills and was not a ninja, so they decided to arm her with explosive tags. They would detonate ten seconds after being wet with blood; faux-Temari would grab her and get them both to a safe distance before the explosion. To an observer, to Nara, it would look like Kanako had actually been trying to blow everyone up and been thwarted by Temari's excellent reflexes. _

_Kanako knew the plan was not without risk to herself and that she would have to take a few blows from her comrade, but neither danger nor pain frightened her. She feared only failure, only letting the sand siblings escape payment for their crime. Then, too, there were her feelings for her comrades, for she had come to feel loyalty and affection for them, as much as she was still capable of such things. They needed her, they praised her cleverness, she was a part of something when she was with them. To preserve this rudimentary sense of family she was willing to put her life on the line._

_But she could not have known that the feeling wasn't mutual. Her comrades listened to her because her schemes worked, but to them she was nothing more than a useful, dispensable waif. They were bound together by ties of blood she did not share; she could never really be one of them. It was never a question of whether to dispose of her, only when. When Nara learned her name they knew the time had come. They set the explosive tags to detonate after two seconds instead of ten, and told faux-Temari to worry only about saving herself._

_When Kanako wet the tags with her own blood and saw them light up much faster than expected, she looked up into her comrade's face with fear. It was happening too fast, and she willed faux-Temari to see the danger and save her. But in her comrade's eyes she saw cold satisfaction and she understood: she had been betrayed. She died then, and though the explosion finished her instantly her death was far from painless. She died alone and bereft, her first family having perished as collateral damage, her second having sacrificed her to save themselves. _

_She was ripped into thousands of pieces too small to be seen, and it was not suicide._

_***_

"Explain," Gaara ordered.

"I sensed right away there was something off about the fight," said Shikamaru. "Kimura was so weak, there was no way she could have expected to take Temari out, even with explosive tags. And she seemed awfully calm for someone crazy enough to kill herself. There was something else, something I couldn't put my finger on until last night: Temari's fighting style."

"I beat her!" snapped Temari. "It was easy. Like you said, she was weak, and I'm a _jounin_."

"Yes," said Shikamaru. "The fact that you beat her wasn't strange. What was strange was the _way_ you did it – you used _taijutsu_ only. No wind manipulation, no _ninjutsu_ at all. Every time I've seen Temari fight, she's used her wind to keep the enemy at a distance, where she has the advantage. Wind is her first, best weapon, so why wouldn't she use it when her life was in danger? Unless, of course, she _couldn't_, because she was you, an imposter without the ability to perform _ninjutsu_."

Gaara's forehead wrinkled. "_Taijutsu_?" he said. "Temari hates it. She never uses it if she can avoid it. None of use do – our training focused mostly on mid- to long-range jutsu."

"So what?" said Temari. "So what if I decided to fight her hand-to-hand? I was angry, and I wanted to inflict some damage personally."

"If that's so," replied Shikamaru, "then there's an easy way to prove me wrong. Use your jutsu now."

Both he and Gaara stared at her expectantly, as Temari's mouth opened and closed and the angry flush on her cheeks lightened into a waxy pallor. "I can't," she said at last. "I can't use any jutsu, and I haven't been able to since the day before yesterday. You're right about that part at least, Shikamaru. I didn't tell anyone because I didn't want to sit helpless in the hospital; I wanted to be _doing _something to solve this. And that's why I was desperate to return to the spring, even if it didn't make sense. You try losing your jutsu sometime, see how rationally you behave."

"I suppose," said Gaara slowly, "that makes sense. Temari is calmer than Kankuro, but she still has a temper and very little patience. She would want to be part of the action, even at risk to her own life."

Temari smiled triumphantly, evidently thrilled that Gaara had accepted her new story. Shikamaru gave a low chuckle.

"I have to hand it to you," he said, "you're a good liar. And you're not afraid to pull emotional strings, either. They were right to pick you to play Temari. But I'm still not fooled."

"Why not?' asked Gaara. "Doesn't her explanation also fit?"

"No. For one thing, it still doesn't explain the total irrationality of Kimura's actions. For another thing, there's what Temari told me the night I got here. She said that the people in the hospital were acting a little strangely – Matsuri was weepier than usual, and Baki expressed an opinion of Kankuro that was at odds with everything he'd said before. It's as if someone knew about them generally but didn't quite understand the details. An imposter fits that scenario perfectly."

"Matsuri _has_ been behaving oddly …" mused Gaara.

Shikamaru pressed on. "She's not the only one," he said. He looked directly at the imposter. "Temari, or whatever your name is, I have a question for you: Whose idea was it to invite me here to Suna?"

She blinked and narrowed her eyes, trying to discern the trap. "It was me," she said at last. "I did it."

"Definitely not her," said Shikamaru.

"But that was right," Gaara pointed out.

"It was _true_, but it wasn't what she told me on the trip here. Temari hates the idea of depending on me, so she lied and said you asked for me, Kazekage-sama. If it was really her, she'd have known about the lie. And there's something else, which should convince you if nothing else does. Last night she told me I should hurry back to Suna because she _needs_ me."

There was a hissing sound that Shikamaru couldn't immediately place but that sounded strangely familiar, and then a long thin ribbon of sand appeared in midair, extending from Gaara's position to loop around Temari's neck. Sand was pouring from the gourd on the Kazekage's back, rustling quietly as it moved. Temari began gasping for air and her hands went to her throat; she dropped to her knees and started pounding the floor with her hands.

"Where," asked Gaara softly, "is my sister?"

"I … am …." the imposter choked out, and then more sand formed a solid hand that struck her on the sternum and slammed her back against the wall.

"Where," Gaara repeated, "is my sister?"

The woman on the floor kept choking and was now turning light blue, so that Shikamaru wondered if she would be able to answer him even if she wanted to. Then her features seemed to melt; they wavered like a desert mirage before solidifying into a totally different form.

Kanako Kimura was on the floor being throttled by Gaara's sand.

"Kill me"—_gasp _–"like"—_gasp –_"my family?" she choked out.

The hissing intensified and Kimura breathed more easily; it seemed Gaara had loosened his sand. Immediately Shikamaru made a hand sign and sent his shadow across to floor. When it reached the imposter it reared up, a reaching tendril of darkness, and pierced the woman through her left shoulder. She cried out in pain as blood poured from the wound.

"You know," said Shikamaru, who hadn't been this angry since he faced Hidan, "it's a real pain the way you manipulate people's feelings. You did it to me, and now you're trying to play off of the Kazekage's guilt over something that happened years ago. Kanako Kimura is dead. Show your real face, or I'll finish you myself and we'll go get one of the other imposters."

The woman groaned and then her features melted again, this time reforming into a face he did not know at all. Her hair was brown and cropped short, her skin tan, her eyes black.

"That's better," said Shikamaru. He retracted his shadow from her shoulder, and she gasped in pain again as it exited her wound. She was bleeding pretty heavily; they would have to call the medics soon if they wanted her alive.

"Now," he said to her, "it's time for you to answer the Kazekage's question. Where is Temari?"


	7. Retrieval, and a Measure of Vengeance

The answer to their question turned out to be somewhat anticlimactic: Temari and the rest of Suna's replaced shinobi were all in their own quarters, and according to the prisoner they were unconscious but still alive. Shikamaru had to admire the brilliant simplicity of it, for with someone moving around the village masquerading as each victim, no one would think to search their homes. Suna's ninja hadn't been missing, after all, merely incapacitated. The woman who had impersonated Temari said that at first her entire clan had hidden on the ledge near the spring, but with each new attack a few of them would leave to take up residence in the latest victim's quarters. By the time of the assault on Kankuro only Kimura herself and few others were left behind, until Shikamaru's arrival prompted Kimura to abandon the campsite completely.

"How many of your group are in each vicitm's quarters?" asked Shikamaru. Their prisoner was decidedly worse for wear, pale and shaking from blood loss. He estimated about ten minutes before she lost consciousness.

"No more than two or three," the woman answered faintly. "Only one in some cases. We're not a very big clan." She sat on the floor of Gaara's office, slumped against the wall with one hand pressed to her wounded shoulder. Her own blood formed a crimson pool beneath her. Now that she was wounded and exposed, merely herself with no illusion to hide behind, it seemed she had abandoned all hope of resistance.

"What are their weapons?" asked Gaara. "How will they defend themselves?"

She drew in a shuddering breath, shook her head weakly. "They have no _ninjutsu_ at all. A few can do some _taijutsu_, but you shouldn't have any trouble with them. We've always used our mimicry ability to avoid combat." She winced and moaned softy. "Please, my shoulder—"

"What about that gas you used against the victims?" Shikamaru cut her off. Just now, he didn't feel a lot of sympathy for her. He was too worried about Temari.

"No, they won't use that. The setup to release it into the air is complicated, and it takes a few seconds to knock a person out. It's no good in a fight."

Shikamaru frowned. "So you expect me to believe that you just left your victims unconscious in their quarters with no protection at all? That's crazy – I'll bet you're trying to lure us into a trap." He clenched his hands into a hand sign and caused his shadow to twitch threateningly and then advance across the floor toward the prisoner. He made it move slowly and deliberately, giving her time to consider her options.

She watched it with a look of horror, knowing she couldn't sustain another injury and hope to live. "No, it's not a trap!" she insisted desperately. "We wanted to lay booby traps, but Kimura said there wasn't any point. She said that if we were discovered it was all over anyway."

Shikamaru's shadow came to halt as he thought about that, though he did not unclench his hands. If the replacement was discovered and the victims found, Kimura and her allies would be facing the combined wrath of all of Suna. They wouldn't have stood a chance, even if they managed to take out a few shinobi with paper bombs and the like.

"That makes sense," he said finally, tucking his hands into his pockets and allowing the jutsu to dispel. "She didn't want to waste time and effort on something that was futile from the beginning." In spite of himself he couldn't help but admire his erstwhile opponent – her caution, economy, and attention to detail.

"There is also," said Gaara, "the matter of the five imposters in the hospital."

"That's true," said Shikamaru. "I assume you'll want to apprehend them?"

The Kazekage nodded. "They know too many of this village's secrets. They cannot be permitted to leave Suna."

"Well, we have to be careful about how we do this. We don't want to risk tipping off the intruders guarding the victims, in case they decide to cut their losses and run, and we also don't want to spook the group in the hospital."

"Then what would you suggest?"

Shikamaru shrugged. "It's obvious, isn't it? Simultaneous attacks – we move to apprehend the imposters at the same instant as we try to rescue the victims. If we take out both groups at once, there's no chance of one warning the other."

Gaara nodded. "Simultaneous attacks … I'm sure we can arrange it. I'll send a pair of _jounin_ to each victim's home, and I'll take my bodyguards and go to the hospital myself."

Shikamaru blinked in surprise. "Are you … sure that isn't overkill, Kazekage-sama? After all, these people have no jutsu."

Gaara's black-rimmed eyes narrowed. "We have been deceived too long," he said coldly. "There have been too many mistakes, too many victims. This time I'm not taking any chances."

"Okay. Then I would like to ask your permission to accompany the team that goes to retrieve Temari, even though I'm not a _jounin_."

Gaara stared at him unblinkingly. "I suppose that's acceptable," he replied eventually. "But Nara, when this is all over you are going to explain to me how it is that this imposter felt the words 'I need you' belonged in a conversation between you and my sister."

Shikamaru blanched. He was not eager to discuss the details of his interaction with faux-Temari with anyone, especially not Gaara or Temari herself. Even he could no longer deny that he had a certain … romantic connection with the Sand's scariest kunoichi, but what that meant, what he _wanted_ it to mean, were questions he didn't feel entirely ready to answer.

"Uh, right," he said to those menacing blue eyes, in what he hoped was a casual voice. "As for this one" – he turned back toward their captive, nearing collapse on the floor – "she's had it. She needs treatment if you want to keep her alive." He breathed a silent sigh of relief that the only other person to know what had transpired between him and faux-Temari was about to lose consciousness.

Gaara regarded the woman pensively. Shikamaru could almost see the struggle within him, between rage at her crimes and the desire to do what was right and sensible. "I'll call the medics," he said at last. "They'll take her to a room far away from where the others are being held. It's best to keep her alive, at least until we ascertain how much she knows."

"Sure," Shikamaru agreed. He didn't really want to see the woman die right here, not from injuries he'd personally inflicted. That could change, of course, depending on what he found in Temari's quarters.

Gaara was striding across the room toward the door. "I'll summon my aide and bodyguards," he said to Shikamaru. "You stay here and watch the prisoner. Someone will be here shortly to collect her and tell you where to meet your squad." Then he was gone, leaving Shikamaru to stare tensely at the helpless woman on the floor, whom, a few hours ago, he had believed to be Temari.

***

"Two minutes," said the _jounin_ on his left, glancing down at his watch. The man was dressed in what Shikamaru had come to regard as standard Suna gear – a tan flak jacket and white head-wrappings that covered part of his face.

The woman on his right, dressed similarly but with her face visible, gave a curt nod of acknowledgement. "Good. When we go in, Leaf-nin, you stay behind us. We don't want you getting in the way."

Shikamaru suppressed a retort and turned his attention back to the building across the street. Apparently women with bad attitudes were also standard in Suna. He didn't really care, so long as _this_ troublesome woman was strong enough to rescue the one currently being held captive not thirty meters away. Temari's quarters were near her brother's offices, on the second floor of one of the ubiquitous round towers. They were watching it from the doorway of a small restaurant, temporarily closed at the Kazekage's request.

"Ten seconds," hissed the man. "Do it now!"

In response the woman made a quick series of hand signs and said, "Wind style: Dust storm jutsu!" From the end of the street a loud howling issued, and a gust of wind swept toward them at ground level, kicking up dust and sand as it came. It formed a whirling reddish cloud about four meters high. When the opposite side of the street was completely obscured by blowing sand, the male shinobi gestured at his companions and all three of them broke from cover, sprinting at top speed toward the tall round building. Hopefully, if anyone was watching from inside, all they would see was a sudden gusting of blowing sand, a common enough sight here in Suna.

In a few seconds they had reached the building and rushed through the front entrance and up a flight of stairs. They halted for an instant before a low arched door bearing Temari's name, and then the male _jounin_ pounded it open with one powerful blow and burst inside, his female partner in hot pursuit. Mindful of instructions, Shikamaru stepped carefully after them.

Inside it was chaos. Someone was screaming, and bodies were flying in every direction, slamming against the coarse sandy walls and crashing into furniture. The two _jounin_ were no more than tan blurs as they darted around the small space, their barely discernable movements punctuated with the sickening sound of flesh striking flesh. A low table beside the doorway was suddenly crushed into splinters by the weight of a human body; the man who'd been tossed there by one of the _jounin_ lay still amidst the wreckage, blinking up at Shikamaru in a daze.

"Well," said Shikamaru dryly, "you guys really _aren't_ very tough, are you?"

The man seemed to come back to himself; he blinked and his eyes hardened with rage, and his right hand closed around the remnants of a lamp that had sat on the table. He brought it up toward Shikamaru's face in an arc. Shikamaru ducked and closed a fist, hitting the man's cheek at the same moment as the lamp connected with his temple. The man was knocked out cold and Shikamaru stumbled back against the doorway, pressing a hand to the gash on his head.

"Damn!" he said to himself. Blood was pouring down one side of his face, and his vision blurred momentarily.

By that time the fight was over; all of the infiltrators in Temari's apartment were knocked out. Shikamaru straightened up and made eye contact with the female _jounin_ across the room.

"You all right?" she asked.

"Fine," he replied. "Where's Temari?"

"She's here!" the male _jounin_ called from down the hall. "She's right in here!"

Shikamaru straightened up, steadied himself on the doorway, and began crunching his way across the floor. He'd been rather curious about Temari's quarters, but all there was to see now was a small rounded space strewn with rubble and bodies. A hallway led to the rest of the apartment; doorways opened on a tiny kitchen and bathroom to the left and a bedroom to the right.

That's where Temari was, laid out on her own bed with an IV leading from her arm to a clear bag filled with some colorless liquid. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing deeply, steadily. It was the most peaceful Shikamaru had ever seen her, with her hair down and her face in an expression of repose. At the sight of her still alive something unclenched inside him. "She's all right," he said with relief.

Meanwhile the male _jounin_ was busying himself with the IV, taking the bag down, making a slit near the top, and dipping his hand inside. He held the hand up in the light streaming through a small window, the liquid glistening on his fingertips. He smelled the liquid, tasted it, and performed a few hand signs, muttering under his breath.

"I thought so," he said after a while. He turned to smile tightly at his partner and Shikamaru. "It's just a standard sedative. Harmless. I can wake her now."

"Good," said the woman. "Do it."

"He's a medical ninja?" Shikamaru asked.

She nodded. "The Kazekage made sure there was one on every team sent to rescue the victims."

It was a good idea. Shikamaru wished he had thought of it. The medic-nin took a syringe and a vial from a pouch on his hip, then filled the syringe and injected Temari's bicep. A moment later she drew in a loud shuddering breath and began to move. Her hands curled into fists and her forehead wrinkled, and then she opened her eyes.

She focused first on the medic-nin standing beside her, then on the female _jounin_, then on Shikamaru. She swallowed. "Kankuro," she told him hoarsely, "is an imposter."

"We know," he answered her. "We figured it all out. How else would we have found you?"

She blinked, slow to process his words. "Gaara … Everyone else?"

"The Kazekage is fine. They didn't get him. And as far as we know everyone else is still alive, like you."

Her next question was one he'd anticipated. "How long?" she asked, which he understood to mean _How long have I been out?_

"A little less than two days," he said. "Not very long at all."

She started to struggle then, to push herself up into a sitting position. "Help me," she commanded the medic-nin at her bedside. Her voice regained a little of its strength and sharpness as she gave the order. The man obeyed her, taking her weight on his shoulder and helping her stand to her feet. The sheets that had been covering her fell away; she was wearing what looked like sleepwear, shorts and a short-sleeved shirt. Once she was standing and had gained her balance she pushed the _jounin_ firmly away. "I want to leave here," she told them. "I want to speak with Gaara."

"That's fine," said Shikamaru. "We should probably take you to the hospital anyway, and that's where the Kazekage is right now. He went to apprehend the people impersonating Kankuro and the others."

"I'll need to get dressed first. You three wait in the hall."

They filed out into the hallway and Temari closed the door. There was a sound of rustling from within, and then some cursing. Shikamaru hadn't been aware she knew all those words, though in retrospect it wasn't surprising.

"Maybe I should offer to help her," the female _jounin_ said uncertainly. She looked at the door, hesitant.

She was saved from making a decision when the door burst open and Temari stepped into the hall, wearing a pale purple tunic and black skirt. Shikamaru was fairly certain it was the same outfit she'd worn when saving him from Tayuya, though it was hard to be sure without the white breastplate and red belt. "These people took my clothes!" she spat. "I had to put on some old things."

"They probably gave them to your double," said Shikamaru. "Same with your fan."

She stared at him, her eyes wide. "You mean … there's a double of _me_ out there?"

"Well of course. I thought you'd worked that out. It wasn't just Kankuro and the others they replaced, it was you too."

She looked horrified. "So, for two days, a copy of me has been running around the village, carrying my fan and wearing my clothes?"

"That's right," he told her. "Actually, replacing you was a bad move for them. It was the last clue I needed to figure out what was going on."

"It was my double that tipped you off to this whole thing?"

"Yep."

"Why? What did she do?"

Shikamaru grinned wryly. There was no way he was going to answer that question honestly. "For one thing, she was civil to me. There were times when she was downright nice. That's when I knew there was something wrong."

Temari continued to stare at him. "There's … obviously a lot I still don't know. You'll have to fill me in on our way to the hospital."

"Sure."

They made their way out of the apartment, and Temari did not look twice at the wreckage that had once been her possessions. Out on the street she turned to the pair of _jounin_. "You two did a good job," she said. "But there's no reason to come any farther. As you can see, I'm perfectly healthy."

The man and woman glanced at each other and seemed inclined to argue, but then Temari folded her arms and scowled and they thought better of it.

"All right," said the male _jounin_. "But shouldn't I treat the Leaf-nin's injury first? He's still bleeding."

Temari's eyes moved over Shikamaru's face, coming to rest on the gash on his temple. "Of course," she said. "I forgot about that. Fine, patch him up before we go, but don't take too long."

The medic-nin stepped closer to Shikamaru and held up his hand, now glowing green with what Shikamaru recognized to be chakra modulated for medical use. The man held his glowing hand a centimeter from Shikamaru's face and assumed an expression of intense concentration, and immediately the throbbing pain in his head began to subside.

"How did you get that anyway?" Temari asked him. "Were you hit with a _shuriken_?"

"No, it was a lamp," said the female _jounin_, and even though the male's hand was blocking his view of her, Shikamaru could tell she was laughing.

"A lamp?" said Temari. "Seriously?" In her voice, too, there was laughter. He'd had some doubts, but now he was sure: Temari was going to be fine.

***

By the time they got to the hospital she knew everything, with the exception of faux-Temari's pass at Shikamaru.

"So Kimura _was_ behind it all?" Temari asked him. They were striding down a corridor in the hospital, heading toward the room housing the five imposters.

"That's right," he replied. "She planned it all, and was betrayed by her companions in the end. That was another mistake they made – it's clear they're nothing without her. Just pawns without a king."

"Again with the _shogi_ references."

He shrugged. "It's a natural fit here. If she'd lived, Kimura could've been a master. It's a shame, really – I would've liked the chance to—" He cut off suddenly; there was a noise echoing down the corridor, a kind of high-pitched shrieking. Most of the words couldn't be made out, with the exception of one: "Gaara."

Shikamaru and Temari exchanged a look, then took off running. Shikamaru hadn't expected Gaara to have any trouble subduing the five imposters, but it was possible they'd used some kind of unsuspected trump card against him …

In the hospital room they were greeted by a surreal sight. Gaara stood in the aisle between the two rows of beds, looking murderous. There were five people pinned against the wall by great globs of sand, like caterpillars wrapped in cocoons. Only their heads were visible, and they still wore the faces of the people they'd impersonated, so that it looked as if Baki, Kankuro, Matsuri, Akio, and Takeo were all being crushed by their own Kazekage's jutsu. But each person attached to the wall had a twin in the room, standing on the floor near Gaara. There were two Kankuros, two Bakis, two Matsuris. And everyone was shouting, faux-Matsuri loudest of all.

"Gaara-sensei!" she shrieked. "You have to believe me. _She's_ the imposter, not me!" The girl was sobbing uncontrollably, tears dripping down her cheeks to wet the sand that bound her. "P-please Gaara-sensei!"

"Just stop it, all of you!" the real Baki roared. "Change back already – there's no reason to keep this up any longer!" His face was red and his eyes were bloodshot; veins stood out in his face. He spun wildly in place to look from one imposter to another, and caught sight of Shikamaru and Temari. "Temari!" he cried in recognition.

Every eye in the room turned in their direction, and the shouting ceased. Faux-Matsuri's shrieks ended abruptly as she eyed the new arrivals speculatively.

"Temari," said Gaara. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she replied. "What's happening here?"

"They won't admit they're fakes," said her brother. "They keep trying to convince me that the people we rescued are the imposters."

"That's annoying," said Temari. "Maybe you should crush one of them."

"I'm considering it," said Gaara. At this the noise resumed, louder than before.

"Gaara-sensei!" shrieked faux-Matsuri. "Please don't hurt me! I've always admired you! I … I love you!"

"Oh, that's it!" roared a voice from the group of people near Gaara. The real Matsuri stepped out from amidst the assembled shinobi. She was so small and slight that Shikamaru had failed to notice her before. She wore a white robe and moved slowly, shakily; he recalled that she had been kept unconscious the longest, nearly a month. It was remarkable that she was able to stand up at all. "Has she been acting like this the whole time I've been gone?" she asked.

"Yes," called Temari. "It's been painful to watch."

Matsuri stomped across the room to stand opposite her double. She dragged a chair over from beside one of the beds and stood on it, bringing them eye-to-eye. "You've been embarrassing me!" she hissed at the other girl. "Making me look like a stupid fool in front of my sensei! How _dare_ you?" She slapped the imposter across the face, with a sharp _crack_ that was audible to everyone in the room.

"Gaara-sensei!" the imposter wailed. "Please don't let her hurt me! Help me!"

"Does anybody here have a _kunai_?" the real Matsuri asked, without taking her eyes from her double.

"Here," said Gaara. The sand encasing faux-Matsuri hissed and shifted, and then extruded a perfect _kunai_. It pushed its way out from the mass of sand and detached completely, to float at the real Matsuri's eye level.

Matsuri reached up with one slim white hand and plucked it from the air. "Thank you sensei," she said calmly. "I'll take care of this problem for you."

Faux-Matsuri's eyes widened and her head jerked back and forth as she struggled futilely against her bonds. "No!" she shrieked. "Gaara—"

That was all she managed to get out before Matsuri hit her again, this time with the haft of the sand _kunai_. The blow landed with a _thud_, and the imposter's eyes went dull and then closed. Her head lolled to one side and her features melted, then reformed into the face of a stranger with tan skin and brown hair.

"Well, that settles it," said Gaara. "We know who the imposters are now. The rest of you had better change back to your true faces, unless you want Matsuri to knock you out too."

Matsuri turned in place and raised the sand _kunai_, clearly willing to carry out the Kazekage's threat. But it wasn't necessary. The other four imposters, seeing their kinswoman's disguise uncovered, gave up. Their faces blurred and changed into four variations on the same theme; it was obvious they were all related.

"You were right," said the one who had been Kankuro. "We're fakes. We surrender."

"Good," said Gaara grimly. "Because I have a lot of questions for you."

The Kazekage let his prisoners down one by one and directed his bodyguards to bind them. Shikamaru and Temari watched it all, still standing in the doorway.

"I can't really blame Matsuri for getting angry," Temari said to him at last. "Her double was really embarrassing. In her place I might have killed someone. It's a good thing _my_ replacement didn't do anything like that."

"Right," replied Shikamaru. "A good thing."


	8. A More Dangerous Journey

**A/N: This is the final chapter of what I originally intended to be a much shorter piece. But constructing a plot of sufficient complexity to do justice to Shikamaru turned out to be more demanding than I realized, and I'm still not sure I succeeded. The encouragement I got from all of your comments is part of what kept me going; I've never had this kind of response to a story before. I would like to thank everyone who reviewed, and extend special thanks to mafalda, MavisBeacon, sunaprincess7, and Miss T Hyuga, who reviewed kindly and consistently. Readers like you are the best motivation.**

He stood again on the balcony, with the miraculous grandeur of Suna laid out before him. Twenty-four hours previously he had stood on this same spot and come to two understandings – one about the mission, one about himself. The first he had dealt with swiftly, saving many lives. The second he was still pondering, turning over in his mind to consider it from multiple angles. He was hoping to find something he had missed, a loophole or shortcut that would make his task easier. Inexperienced though he was in such matters, he had a sneaking suspicion that this search was futile, that there was no safe path across the terrain he meant to traverse. Had Asuma still lived, that would have undoubtedly been his opinion.

The door behind him opened and footsteps crossed the balcony. Temari leaned against the railing beside him to join him in his appreciation of the nighttime view.

"Now we finally understand everything," she said, speaking into the void at their feet. "We didn't even have to call in the interrogation specialists – they couldn't wait to talk."

He nodded, a wasted gesture as she wasn't looking at him. "They hoped to steal your jutsu by pretending to have done it already," he said. "It was clever."

"Yes. Once they had Gaara they were going to move the victims out of the village to a hidden location and begin experimentation. They thought a thorough examination of us by skilled medic-nin would enable them to copy our jutsu."

"And the imposters – would they have stayed behind in the village?"

"Yes, apparently. They were going to stay behind to keep up the charade for a while longer, then stage a move away from Suna under the pretext of starting new lives elsewhere. Of course they'd really be going to join their comrades, who by that time would have hopefully acquired the power they wanted."

"What about the victims? What was to become of them after their jutsu was replicated?"

"Supposing they—I mean supposing _we_—survived the experimentation, we were to be killed." He could tell she had turned her head to look at him, because her voice got slightly louder. "You saved our lives."

"I had help. You, the Kazekage."

She snorted. "Again with the false modesty. I don't give compliments very often, Shikamaru, so you'd better appreciate it when I do."

At last he summoned the courage to look at her. She was scowling but also smiling slightly. She still wore the old outfit she'd put on earlier, having declared that she was going to burn the one worn by the imposter. Her fan, though, was now tied securely in its proper place across her back. It seemed she didn't feel like herself without its familiar weight.

"I do appreciate it," he said simply.

Her scowl deepened momentarily in puzzlement, and then she snickered. "Good," she replied. "You're learning."

"If it's all right with the Kazekage," he said, turning away again, "I'd like to start for Konoha tonight, instead of waiting until morning."

She straightened up, surprised. "But why? What's the rush? Gaara told me you came to him first thing this morning, and he thinks you were up all night. Knowing your pathetic stamina, you must be exhausted. Doesn't it make more sense to rest here overnight and leave tomorrow?"

"Yeah, it makes more sense. But there are … things I've got to deal with in Konoha. I've already been away too long."

"But if you wait until the morning I'll be able to escort you home. Unless you were planning on going alone?" She sounded genuinely puzzled, if not a little hurt. Or maybe he was imagining that last part.

"I think I'd better. You've got stuff to handle here – cleanup, paperwork, your brother. I can get myself home just fine." He was deceiving her, but only slightly. The 'things' he had to deal with were not in Konoha per se but rather in his own mind, and he couldn't work them out in her presence. She was a distraction to him, and the source of his confusion.

"What do you mean by 'my brother'? The medics checked Kankuro out and said he'll be fully recovered in a day or two."

"I meant Gaara."

"Gaara? But I thought they never got to him."

"They didn't, physically. But when she was found out the woman impersonating you transformed into Kanako Kimura and begged the Kazekage for her life. She was betting that his guilt over what he'd done would distract him, and she was right. He halted his attack and I had to subdue her in the end."

Temari digested that in silence. "Gaara … was derailed during an attack? By guilt? I can't believe it."

He met her eyes again. "It happened. You said it yourself – killing so many from such an early age unbalanced him. He's different, he's found a purpose, but that doesn't change the past. Something he said to me earlier makes me think part of him doubts his fitness to be Kazekage, and what happened with the imposter confirms it."

"And you think I can do something about this? I'm no good with that sort of thing."

An eerie feeling of _déjà vu_ overtook him. "I … bet you're better than you think. Even tough women generally are."

"Pft. Still the same obnoxious chauvinism. I knew we'd come around to that eventually." She sighed. "But in this case you might be right. I'll do what I can to help Gaara."

There it was again, that soft look. The sense of eeriness deepened, and was joined by fear. "I'm sure you will," he said. "If there's nothing else, I'm going to start home now. There's no need to walk me to the gate – I know my way." He took a few steps in the direction of the door, forcing himself to move slowly though he really wanted to run.

"Wait!" she called after him. "There _is_ something else."

He stopped, fighting for calm. He wasn't ready for this yet. He looked at her and almost flinched at her beauty. "What?" he asked roughly.

Uncharacteristically, she hesitated. "I … wanted to tell you something. I've been hiding it from you a while now, but I think you deserve to know."

He was on the verge of panic.

She took a deep breath and went on. "It wasn't Gaara who requested your presence here. It was my idea. Actually, I insisted on it. I knew if anyone could help us, it would be you." She said it quickly, looking at the ground. She even appeared to be blushing slightly.

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, I know. The Kazekage told me." Somehow he was able to stretch his mouth into a smile. "I figured if you wanted to avoid admitting you needed my help, I should let you."

She shot him a sharp look, folded her arms. "_Needed_ your help? I wouldn't go that far. But sometime in the future we might find it _convenient_ to call on your assistance again. So be ready."

"Sure thing. I guess you know where to find me."

She smirked. "Of course. In the Leaf, doing something stupid."

He considered a retort but knew she was too much of a pain to let him have the last word. So all he said was "Huh," before crossing the rest of the way to the door and stepping through it, leaving her behind for now. His final image of Temari was of her standing in the clear desert moonlight, victorious.

***

An hour or two outside of Suna, alone on a sea of sand, he was overtaken by a sudden gust of wind. It nearly knocked him flat, and it raised up a whirling cyclone of sand that walled him in and blocked out the stars for an instant. Then it was gone, just as suddenly as it had come, leaving him gasping for air and with grit in his eyes and mouth.

He wondered if Temari's jutsu could reach this far, and smiled at the thought. Perhaps her double had finally awakened and told her about the kiss.

He was under no illusions about himself; he knew he was a coward. This early departure from the Sand was nothing less than a retreat. He was fleeing first from the wrath of Temari and Gaara, inevitable once they interviewed faux-Temari, and second from the terrifying sweep of feelings he had come to recognize but not control. It had taken an imposter, a bad actress, to bring him face to face with his own desires. No longer could he avoid the truth.

His cowardice was of a particular kind, applicable mainly to the unexpected and unpredictable. It could be overcome by planning and careful thought. Thus his current retreat was a strategic one, designed to give him a chance to assess his situation and decide on the next move. He was at heart a _shogi_ player and had no choice but to behave like one, though of course love was not a _shogi _match and there would probably come a time when events defied his comprehension and he had to rely on luck. For now though, he had the luxuries of distance, time, and analysis. He would bide his time and plan his move, and then he would come back for her.

He would come back when the wind died down.


End file.
